Out of control...



I am not sure that I have ever felt so powerless. Even in my addiction recovery things have been easier. Today waves of sewage keep rolling in with higher than normal tides. I can not breathe; everything smells, smells of sulfur and rot. Impulsive frightening imaginations flood my thoughts catapulting me into an anxious hardened spirit.




My, my, my...whining as if my place is any different than others. So self-centered, absorbed in my own pursuit of comfort. Relief is not within my reaches, in fact, change in circumstances will not be any different. The outcome of all that has become the focus of my attention will be a constant reminder of the mud I have had wo wallow in, not mud of my own production.

There is an answer, an anicdote to misery.

Ask the question,

What?

Can you hear or see, feel or touch,

What?

Others

They drown too,

Help them.