Dolphin

Sometimes I feel like I'm in the middle of the ocean when it comes to you. I know where I am, I know the situation, but I have no idea what to do next and, frankly, I'm only barely treading water. The safety of land could be anywhere. I can try swimming towards it, but is it worth the effort? The sweet comfort of solid ground could be in any direction.

And there were times that I wanted to give up. Just to stop kicking my feet, to stop grabbing onto something that I can't hold onto. To let myself fall into the dark unknown because part of me feels like I keep a shred of dignity knowing I was choosing a peaceful end out of my own volition, rather than let my unfortunate circumstance consume me. The respite seems tempting, for consciousness will fade in a matter of minutes.

Then you come along: a sleek, cheerful creature with seemingly no care in the world, passing through the area because I caught your eye, a curiosity in the world you normally inhabit by yourself. Once in a while you make an appearance, and I reach out to you hoping you would lead me in the right direction, or maybe even just help me stay afloat in this vastness for a little while.

The moments where defeat seems like the best way to escape are the times that I hardly notice you. I know you're around, the thought is well placed in the back of my mind, but panic buries logic and reason. I can't track your thoughts and feelings all the time, and you're free to come and go as you please. But part of me knows you're here, and that you're around for a reason.

But during those times I feel like giving up, you nudge my feet and push me above the water's surface, a reminder that I'm not alone in this ocean. You're just as lost as I am, a vagabond without a map or an agenda.

And we float.