35.

I crunch down on the chalk like substance and anxiously await results. Tick, tock. Hurry up. I'm a kid on Christmas Eve. Gimme, gimme, gimme. I just wanna tear into that neatly wrapped gift. My brain digs in and euphoria comes rolling in like tiny waves. Little baby ripples of delirium and delight. The power of the moon has no hold on my ocean and with every breath I take, I feel the tide growing. My pendulum has shifted once again, and I've barely even noticed. This new environment must be doing wonders for me. I feel stable for the first time in a year. Another wave comes barreling in, this one makes my knees shake and my eyes twitch. My teeth feel numb. I feel dizzy in a playful youthful way, like I just spread my arms out and started to spin. Spun and spun and spun. Rinse cycle. I take a seat on the basement stairs and stare at my hands. They feel huge and I swear they start to grow. The tide is growing, and it's a damn good thing I'm already sitting down. With all these water analogies something is going to get soggy and water damaged soon. I hang my head back and this noise pours out of me. It's a noise like nothing else. I'm moaning in a brand new language. It's my own personal howl and it rings out as the tidal wave comes crashing forward.