I’m writing now because I haven’t been writing. Again.
There will be a post, eventually, about my trip to Paris, but this is not it. This is not the post you are looking for, not unless you’re looking for something more of a confessional and less of an upbeat update.
Somewhere, in the whirlwind of returning home and the start of school, I became overwhelmed. I wandered out into the ocean of work, but instead of swimming effortlessly through the waves, I stumbled upon a riptide. It caught me, pulled me far out to sea, where I can’t touch the bottom and the beach looks like a mirage on the horizon. I’m adrift.
The thing about riptides is they’re tricky. Breaking out of one without knowledge, and without help, is nigh impossible. The other thing about riptides is that they’re deadly. You can only tread water for so long before exhaustion sets in, before surrender to the deep blue sea seems like the better alternative.
Fortunately, this adrift swimmer wasn’t alone in the ocean and has friends who carry lifesavers. I’m still caught in that damned riptide, but I’m floating on borrowed buoys without the constant struggle rather than in danger of going under at every moment. Right now, I’m simply waiting on either the tides to change or a stronger swimmer to bring me back to shore. But I refuse to sink. The ocean can’t have me this time.
I think I wrote somewhere on here that I liked to lie with my words, but sometimes I also tell the truth. It’s just easier with metaphors.