I go with the flow until the current consumes me, thrashing around until I'm lost at sea. Sometimes I'm lucky to find a rope to be held, a sense of safety amidst the chaos, a feeling unparalleled. I'll tug and I'll pull until I'm almost free, but the rope always snaps and the hands on the other end I never reach. I sink to the bottom with no hope to keep float, the sadness is heavy, a personal chainmail ccoat. I work up the nerve to swim towards the shore, but that's so ambitious when I've never been there before, so I spend my days floating in thoughts, reminding myself love has always had a cost. Every time I'm close to the beach of a lover, I'm hit with tidal waves one after another. One day I'll free myself from this isolating ocean,  but the whisper of being saved is a lingering notion.