My temperature keeps fluctuating. My head is swimming, and there feels like there is a vice around my skull. Yet, I am quitting, I am quitting, I am quitting, and so are Will and Ryan. the absence of a small flame has turned the world to water- we rock (hand to chin to hair to hand) and the breeze, the current pulls at our limbs. My thoughts cling like silt and a small place screams with anxiety- I will not feed it. The sun I used for a blanket, wrapped its warmth around me and focused on Anything Else (the smell of the wind in your throat) has set too soon and I cannot break the surface of this ocean, addiction. Twenty-four hours. Yes, I have arrived.