She was floating.  Riding the current.  It was time that she did not back away from her hopes.  I always wished I could be her.  I lost all my hopes.  I lost all my dreams.  Under pressure, obsession with power and control, I couldn’t help but stare at her floating away.  Her auburn hair shined upon the teal murky water.  Like a fire, she caught my eye and led my way.  Now pressing my face against the cool window, I could see more clearly.  That pale white skin.  Not a blemish in sight.  No freckles, no moles, no little pesky bumps that have me running to the doctor for my hypochondriac flaws.  She looked so peaceful.  She looked so beautiful.  Through her soaked dress, her ******* were visible.   Like a modest Venus, her beauty was radiant, but not lustful.  She seemed so pure.  Like the porcelain dolls I was never able to play with.  As Christ was on the cross, her arms were spread apart, but her chaste legs were crossed.  I longed so badly to just touch her hand, to hold her hand.  To have her cool fingers hold mine, and tell me not to care.  I just wanted her to stroke my head with those porcelain hands, and to tell me everything was going to be all right.  I could hear her delicate voice, whispering to me in a hushed way, telling to jump.  Jump in. The water is so lovely.  Float with me.  Let everything go.  I want to.  I want to be with you.  Nothing would make me so happy.  Just let me be with you.  My body was now pressed onto the glass.  It was time for me to make a choice.  It was time for me to either stay, trapped here in this prison of a life I created, or to jump into the ocean and live my life.  My life was my own; it was not for anyone to dictate what I was to do with it.  I flew down the steps, gracefully.  Her porcelain qualities consumed me.  I was becoming her.  And as I reached the ocean, and began to strip, she was not there.  No one was there.  It was just I, standing in a wet slip, delirious and confused.