I used to feel it rolling in like the tide. I would be in a pleasant place, on the shore in the sunlight. The water washed over my toes, leaving behind relief like the wake of a good cry. I would see it coming, with no power to run. A cruel word, a derisive look, and the water was at my knees, then my neck. Then would come the long hours, days, weeks, months of struggling to breathe. Every moment, I had to decide to keep going, to believe that I should live despite the heavy water trying to sink me. When I was a teenager, I split myself in two. I let the waters take me. I would fantasize about a beautiful forest…