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And my personal favorite, "Wake up, it's only a
dream, for nothing you fear is real." Unfortunately, their
well-intentioned words fell upon my ears, deaf from the
rush of each wave of depression crashing in around me.

I struggle to understand yet find no meaning in my
thoughts. I work to let them go, yet I can't, for fear has
virtually overpowered me now. I am weak against the
pounding sea of seemingly endless repetition… of failure.
My mantra no longer comforts. I reach out one last
time. Perhaps someone paddling by will lend a bit of
help. I'm not expecting a heroic rescue so much as a
branch to hold on to so I will not to succumb to the white
water's perilous end. My effort to cry out to a passing
dinghy is an ineffective attempt, and I am swamped by
the wake from his paddle. Defeated, I whisper a
message upon the water and set it afloat, for I no longer
have the strength to scream. Hope is all I have left now,
and I cling to it desperately between shallow gasps for
air…

****

Gillian's eyes flooded with tears. The memories of
those months of loss and sadness after Eryn's death
rushed back to her with ferocity. She was angry at
Thomas–angry for making her feel again. She was angry
at herself for not having better control over how the past
was still running her. She had been excited to see the
envelope among the pile of month-end bills. But now,
she cursed him under her breath and growled at the
letter, folding and tucking it away in a desk drawer. She
couldn't believe his audacity! Until now, all the letters
were easy–emotionally available to her–she could enjoy
them. But this... How could he! He knows the horrific
nightmares I’ve suffered. This one was so close…

Diana Kathryn Plopa 6 A Tryst of Fate