outsourcing harrassment

I'm home right now and things are good. They're well. They're well and good. Good and well? Why not?

I write, submit, laugh with the best. I like quiet time and loud time. Early mornings are not so impossible. August was always our month. But everything beyond August might become impossible, so I slide into blue-gray water under dark gray clouds and swim until the thunder warns me out. Not the ominous thunder. The groaning crack that makes me want to get drenched in rain like ocean.

Does this make sense? Sometimes I feel like two or three different people. Lately, an exterior shell that speaks professionally and offers answers with a bright smile. Next, the self who says all sorts of silly things, and finally, the one who feels quite distant from all of this.

But all fall away in the water. Treading, splashing. Feeling chilly depths on feet. I laugh and kick them away. Swimming. Looking. Being.