- This is too short, it seems. Wicked tales are wickeding me. It's much too much to take in. I see bits of you in me. Perhaps, every thing i hate about you, is actually a direct reflection about a part of myself that i've been falling all over myself to conceal and escape from.

I dont want to fall into your philosophy. I want to make my own. I dont wnat to take the water thats in my reach, i'd rather die of thirst while exercising my right to fidget. Maybe while i'm laying on the sand i will find real water, water that will saturate me; water that will quench all of my desires. I am convinced that there is such a thing. So please dont wave scents of your water in my face, becuase i know your secret: your water doesn't satisfy. You offer it to me simply becuase i am a likely target; you know i will reach out and grasp at your water, gulp it down, and only be thirsty for more. I am sick of falling at your feet again and again, begging for more of the water i've become hopelessly addicted to over the years. I am sick of playing the game of being your mindless pawn. I want to live my own life, free from your rule. I dont want your water, take it away. But even if you leave it within my gaze i will continue and continue and continue to refuse.

The edge of my fear is straining all around...straining to emerge from the rain that consumes me. Focus on divinity, crash through time and time again. The storm is forming all around me...but there's still a calm deep in my soul. Look into my eyes, glimpse the determination. I need someone besides myself to spur me on and to graze me with words of encouragement day in and day out.

The words conform to meaning and break the silence.

I sigh.

The grief-filled avenue doesn't seem so cluttered anymore.