Hold my hand: I will support you.

You're filled with fear: that's okay.

Your hands shake: let them.

I am here: your heart is safe.

You never were your mother's favorite;

that is something this will not aid.

To be her son will just annoy her;

you cannot hope to avoid red.

Hold this close: she cannot change you.

Remember this: you can fly.

She will restrain you: you are stronger.

Guarded by love: you will not die.

You are yourself: you will always be.

I will stay here: no matter what.

You are you: her love or not.

Relax.

Informally out and in the spotlight, apparently family prefers looking back into the dark I've left. An anti-moth, she fears the light; the love; the truth. That Z is mine, and I theirs; that they have taken me and loved me in a way a mother could not. To admit their love surpassing blood would be to admit to her failure, though, and do that - never.

today, you will breathe in.

today, you will allow something to fall.

today, you will pick something up.

today, you will continue going,

for today, you will not end.

for today, you will not die.

for today, you will not give in,

for today, you will want to,

for today, you will resist it,

for today, you will realize that,

for today, you will perservere,

for today, you will be loved.

Standing above, the waves that crash send sprays against the glass: eyes protected, I breathe in the rest, salt sticky on my skin. The clouds roll over and over in turmoil; the summer best embraces in the morning chill. Seagulls cry for food: the poor, they compete with each other and it is not just beak and beak, but hand and hand; the city riches starve for scraps. A paradise vacation that makes fools, and the sea lions bark less than the men. But the storm is here, and only seaweed waves: where unforgiving stones impale the unworthy, this is where mermaids are made, and I am among them.

Slicked by the breeze, I dive into the waves, and bright garibaldi butt out of the beige; orange against gray, they bring sun to the sea and character to the floor, for here they are king, sharks far from their door. Schools pass by: on their way to class; the university so near, they're gone in a flash of browns and blues, and thus the hues of sea come and go. Where water sticks and absorbs, it becomes less of me and them, as I reclaim my fins and we are one again.