I am not shy about admitting my modest talents. For example, I am happy to admit that I am better than average at clever remarks, and I also have a flair for getting people to like me. But to be perfectly fair to myself, I am ever-ready to confess my shortcomings, too, and a quick round of soul-searching forced me to admit that I had never been any good at all at breathing water. As I hung there from the seat belt, dazed and watching the water pour in and swirl around my head, this began to seem like a very large character flaw.

Nothing in life is fair. Fair is a dirty word and I'll thank you not to use that language around me.

The faster it ran away from me. And I found myself reasoning that perhaps one more beer would unlock the doors of perception.

Why bother inflicting enormous pain on yourself when sooner or later Life would certainly get around to doing it for you?

I stood up. It was all too much. I could not even meet my own expectations, and to be asked to deal with all theirs too was suffocating.

I had killed our careful relationship by driving my tongue through its heart and pushing it off a cliff.

Me, feeling. What a concept.