upheaval

i wonder sometimes if i have begun to exhaust the literary world's supply of seawater by writing too much about drifting about in vast oceans. but this idea of being adrift is a motif that has pursued me through my life. the idea of being afloat in the great expanse, at the mercy of some external power. the uncertainty of survival, of drowning or coming upon land. the instability of the raft, the aimlessness of the wandering.

but i wonder, if i am ever truly helpless. the storm is within, not without. i am adrift inside, my heart is adrift, lost, confused. and my body bears the weight of this ocean inside, which sloshes about as i carry out the day-to-day affairs.