Spark

A piece of driftwood floats down the river, it is no longer a part of the tree it once was. It is soaked to the core and dead yet still moves along from one bend to another.

A fire is burning in the distance as it approaches. The wood is drawn from the water into the fire, it is hot as it begins to crack and pop with steam and yet does not burn. It is slowly beginning to dry and in the process leaves a mark, untouched. As time passes the wood is set ablaze and is now repurposed to kindle the heat it was at first so eager to avoid. It took time, the driftwood needed to travel to find its final place reborn in the light.

• I did cocaine for there first time in years when I found myself losing my mind and entering numbers and emails into a website to do what.... unblock, unblock, please just let it work. 3 days later after bottles of vodka and cases of beer disappear, I'm alive?! I found myself again. The pills are gone. The cycle has to be broken by pure will. No, pure luck.