My ocean is this chaos, these ringing moods that wash over me, pull me under, drown me. They are stronger than me. They are beyond my understanding. They can swallow me. I fight to swim, to float above, to breathe, but still their currents own me and I am at their mercy. I am alone and no one can find me or pull me out. So many try, and they almost succeed, but just as our hands meet or as my fist closes around their rope of salvation, I am tossed by an irreverent wave back into the abyss of myself. I am lost again, screaming through my choking, adding the salt of my tears to the swirling foam of the sea, and wishing for enough strength to not drown this day. Each day, my wish is granted, but each day it is granted more grudgingly, giving me more time to sink and less strength to swim. Giving me just enough will to keep my head above the waves, but not enough to swim to shore. I cannot even see the shore anymore. I do not know if it is even there, or if it, too, has been overcome by the sea