I thought I built my house high enough on the hill to withstand the rains. I thought the floods would not reach this high. I thought I was safe.
Last night, the flood waters came lapping at my door. They have already covered the bottom floor of the house. The basement is flooded. When I peer down the cellar doors, I see things floating in the water�pictures, a toy, old christmas decorations. From the top of the stairs, I watch as the water rises. Step by step, it climbs the stairs. It wants me. I won�t be safe until it has consumed me. And I might be okay with that. It would be a relief to end the struggle. I would like to surrender to the water, float aimlessly along.
I�m tired of fighting. I don�t have the strength anymore. In December, there was a day when I was hopeful. I thought that 2004 MIGHT be my year. I think I was wrong. There will never be a year for me. The idea of breathing in the water, letting it fill my lungs, succumbing to the urge to die�this appeals to me now. I can�t think of many reasons why I should live. I am a girl without hope. I cling to my scrap of wood and float in the floodwaters.
