Alrightio. From, um, around two or so days, I'll be fishing with one of two of the legal guardians, and gone for a week. This means, roughly, sitting on a boat with my headphones blaring, trying not to think about drowning. And lo, my terrible taste in music shall conqure my fear of water.
Fishing with loud music.
The sharp, cold tendrils of bitter fear digging their way through my very flesh, into the bones underneath that soft outer layor. Gripping at me, as a rope would coil. Dragging me down, down into the dark, sickly green depths below. A terrified yelp escaped my lungs as I plunged, into the disgustingly thick, dark liquid. The cold, damp feeling surrounding, cutting off the light, denying me the sweet air for breath. Down, down, down I sank, unable to see, to hear, to breathe. A hand, a blessed promise of life, grasped the front of my shirt and yanked me back to the surface, to the sunlight, which had never been such a welcome thing.
In other words; I'm back from that horrid little 'fishing trip'. I fell off the boat in a surprizingly deep, disgustingly green river-lake-thing. It sucked.
The quiet life sucks, man.