17 2012

and with it stripped me of any hope of surviving the night. I reached for my phone and pressed firmly on the keys, angry at it for allowing me to escape, as if it were partially to blame for my loss. Defeat had left me hollow. The water had made me painfully aware of the nameless dread that comes with being responsible for one’s own emotional well-being. It had now engulfed the contents of the tent, manoeuvring its way into all my belongings, leaving nothing uncorrupted. I waited outside the tent for my reprieve to arrive. All I wanted was for relief to show itself, yet at the same time the arrival of relief would secure my defeat and define me: dependent; helpless.

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