Fishing wasn't made for the weak.

I can't live like this. How you live feeling the way you feel and not letting yourself feel it? I can't live like that. I need to scream things out loud, brake the barrier of sound if it pleases me. And yet it's beautiful. How my heartbeat raises with distrust, reminding one your alive, breathing, perfect. I sure can't live like this, yet I try. Like a fish that hopes of being able to adapt to oxygen, jumping up and down and sideways, hoping for a chemical miracle. I too can sink without water. I too can drown in mid-air. I too can face living, living like this.

In isles of groceries manufactured into having a different color, each a different hue, making pupils feel special. They put up a show in photons, commercialized molecules of public relations. I can't live eating pre-washed lettuce, I need to feel the dirt still battling to stay attached to every leaf. I can't live knowing everything, that life is not worth living. I too like Ahab would die if I caught my big white majestic beast.

Is this my whale? I've seen it kill before, and it has surely eaten a previous part of myself. I'll travel shore-side, wonder around the squiggles that chart continents and tiny islands; lonely as they are. Big fish, swim towards the heavens, make yourself be seen. I only need but a glimpse to keep on going. Let me know you are real. I can't live like this, wanted non-existence.

Are you my fish? Have you a part of me buried in your stomach wall? Can you digest my skin that crawls, begs, for your touch? Yours alone. You swim uncharted waters, I follow fueled by revenge. And the wind, that carries the sounds of previous lovers, the slam of doors in your face, the trickling of defrosted snowflakes. I never learned how to fish.

I can't live like this. My personality has never been that of a hunter, I can't hurt you, even if you ask for it. I mention too much myself, I am greedy, rampantly so. Forgive me, for it's my nature.

And you are my fish... and I will follow so.