I am equally calm and distressed. I am the current underneath the still water. I am the bird flying inside the eye of the storm until she dies of exhaustion. I sit here and I ask, if I stop, will I die, too? Will the storm take over? Or will the winds transport me, violently, to another place - unknown and scary, but not necessarily worse? Will I ever learn to breathe underwater? Can I manage the suffocating stillness of my own mind?

- journal excerpt