Too much. Too much and not enough all at once. Damn this 'normal' life. I begged and pleaded to live just one day without drowning in the ocean of emotion I lived in before. Now I live a dull and boring life in grays and muted sounds of happy and unhappy. The occasional crimson of anger and the black fear leaves me longing for my chaotic ocean. Each precious emotion bottled. Each unique feeling locked away to be released only when I am told it is appropriate. I wait day in and day out for something more than the soft yellow happy to roll over me again. I wait. I even seek. What can I do to reach the peaks of those waves again? Will alcohol drag me under a wave long enough to see the green jealousy swim by? Can I fly high enough to break through the waves with the aid of my long lost favorite morning elixir? Why can't I reach them? They seem so long lost. This, here, these words, this is one attempt to find my sea. Will the open page be enough to wet my heart? I dive deeply without fear. Fear has no place here. Fear will only force me to turn back. All that is behind is stale and blinding perfection. Perfection can burn. I tried to meet it, to be it, to form it. Perfection is the lie the masses follow. A captain does not follow. And a captain I shall be, even if I have to commandeer my own heart to sail that beloved ocean again.