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The weather isn’t the real problem here. The turmoil and tempest in my mind keep shaking me, pushing me. At this point, the weather really doesn’t matter any more.
Each step that I take, each breathe that I breathe, each thought I conjure shakes me even more. Completely alone, I got no one, nothing to hold on to.
Yes, yes. Yes, this is it. This utter loneliness and seasickness. It doesn’t help that I’m sitting. It doesn’t help that I’m lying down. More and more empty beer, rum and whiskey bottles are broken behind my trial. And dying cigarette butts try to breathe more air to stay alive, just like me.
To be honest though, I know how to get out of this mess. I knew it all along. Thinking about it now, I don’t know why I endured for this long. Tip my self over and wait for the cold water to rush into me, that’s all I have to do. Lie down and wait.
This last whiskey bottle pretty much knocked me down on the floor. Now, the only thing left for me to do is to wait. The last thing I feel lying on this cold but embracing floor is life suffocating the lone cigarette.