Hail the rapids...

I return to you, dear friend. Truth is, we share some pretty amazing moments. Unlike most people, I am comfortable here. Relying on you, knowing you won't let me down. Problem is I keep forgetting you're here.

Until that moment when I've flipped the raft in daunting white rapids and I'm drowning hoping to catch another breath before I go back under and praying I feel a hand reaching for my own. Alas, the hand I sometimes feel too often can't hold on to me or just decides to let go. As I get pushed further and farther under, giant rocks are appear everywhere. Some close enough to grab but too smooth to hold onto, some I nearly crash into that are sharp and blunt, so it rips through my skin and bruises my body. I just have to keep holding my breath, waiting for the troubled waters to return me to the surface where I can gasp for air and try to swim to safety on my own. Eventually, the troubled waters calm down and I manage to stay afloat. I'm exhausted, but now I'm treading water and breathing, it's all going to be okay. I've been here before. Maybe not the same river, maybe not the same rocks, maybe not the same current, but I've been here. I see the shoreline, just a little further is all that is left. I can make it. I can make it, but this time I'm going to be better prepared for the rapids. I'll wear a life vest. I'll master this fucking river or die trying. You don't know me. If you did, you'd know better. If I hadn't been flipped out that boat by that huge rock and I was the one on safe grounds, I would never have let go of your hand or I would've ridden the rapids with you, so you wouldn't have been alone.