to the point of ad nauseum

incommunicado.

i'm falling down a fucking waterfall. i'm trapped in a cave partway up, and every day that passes that i don't stick my arm out into the whites of the water the stone sinks into the sea and the cave comes closer to breaching open air.

you say i'm part of the water, i'm integral, i belong, but i don't see myself as such an innocuous droplet.

stagnant. magnetic. human-sized on the head of a pin, stuck to the side of this cave.

it doesn't (wouldn't) matter to the other droplets, of course. they're moving too fast to mind.

so why don't i pretend to be part of the water cycle, the circle of life?

when i brush up against the other molecules, close enough, they turn and polarize. they see me for what i am.

freak!

you can't take it!

i'll drown. they know i will. they've no time to learn how to buoy me. they can only pretend i'm one of them.

i can only pretend i'm one of them, too. you see?

they don't know any better. they can't know any worse.

they're just water droplets, clinging together.

incommunicado.

sure, pass me by. long enough on, you'll rise into the sky above me, and i'll come out to land as an upward evolution, and walk

away from you