Rain and sea are a great comfort. On days when I am pouring out my heart, onto the page, into doomed crushes, the rain is like a blanket, and the ocean like a cloak. I wear the water and it warms something hard inside me, something as knotted as the seaweed that washes ashore in clumps. I can feel easy, then. I can untie those sacks of pebbles I’ve been carrying around all day, the stones of a thousand worries and disappointments I’ve collected up, and let them loose in the tide, pray the sharks will eat them. The sharks will eat them, yes. Little pieces of my heart.