Adrift

I find myself at sea in a battered boat with a tattered sail. The sea is anything but calm.

Swells several feet to several stories build, threatening to overpower my vessel, as well as me. But the boat stays afloat, rocking in concert with the assailing swells.

I am thrown asunder, with no means to steer or navigate. The sky is blanketed, hardened and dark as a forgotten ink spill. I can see no star—neither the constellations nor our own sun, making it impossible to determine not only my location on earth but also in time; is it daytime or night? All light seems to have been blotted out by darkness.

The talisman to which I had clung for so long all but shattered as the storm built itself up from a scant few clouds on a distant horizon. Inevitably, we found ourselves beneath a threatening sky as the once calm sea turned turbulent, and I seemingly alone, attempting to keep the crumbling craft afloat.

External factors extricated the worst from a worsening situation. Disease did its due to friends, family, and loved ones alike; I am powerless to do anything but watch. And maybe write. But even that proves futile as I am unable to bring to terminus that which plagued my mind, inhibiting my thoughts and actions for the bulk of the day.