Michael Marano, 129 TESS
River rise, carry me back home. I cannot remember the way.
River rise, carry me back home. I surrender today.
After years of drifting, too afraid to grab the steering wheel, my boat ended up in an arroyo covered in rust with a busted headlight. One of my best friends, whose gift of persistence is only surpassed by her impatience with my rehearsed lines of happiness, had begun demanding, in the most caring of ways, that I become introspective and take control of my life. Every time I left her apartment I would promise to follow her advice then go home and hide under the covers of my anxiety at the first glimpse of myself in the mirror. I had become a whimper of a human, not even strong enough to be considered a moan. Her unwavering faith in me kept me going though…
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