I can feel the swell push against me, wash over and through me. Ever changing, yet constant in it’s goal. The craving to push back overwhelms me but I feel powerless when it towers over me. Still, I feel the need to fight. I’m waiting for my weapons, and I’m counting the hours to pick them up. The battle I must fight must be fought with a clear head; with dedication and strength. While it wells up inside me, as the swell washes over me, I focus and I wait; as the waiting makes the want.