A boat

I’m on a boat. It’s by no means a fancy one at that. But it would qualify; it keeps me afloat, albeit barely. It has sides to keep the water out. Not big shielding, comforting sides but they’re sufficient to keep the smaller ripples in the water from constantly drenching me to my bone. It absorbs the motions in the water and gives me momentum. So a boat. I’m on a boat.
The ripples in the water doesn’t get in but the occasional wave is a completely different story. My boat’s sides is no match for the swell of water. The boat thrashing about on the water, myself able to do nothing but to follow along. Moving uncontrollably and fast. Water gets in everywhere. It soaks me. Even when I’m ladling to the best of my abilities and the water disappears, I’m still left wet, cold, and exhausted. It takes time to dry. The impetuous winds helps me dry, but leaves me shivering.
I’m not always alone. The boat is more stable when I’m not alone. Better able to withstand the waves and fast rises of the water. The boat is balanced in a way I can never manage when I’m on my boat alone. The stability is addictive. I so easily forget what it is like to be on the boat alone. The only one to make sure I don’t tumble over and dropped in the vast waters. But it won’t last. It never does.
The moment I’m left alone on the boat, just as the weight is lifted, the boat swings causing just a little bit of water to once again spoil my otherwise dried self. And I’m left wondering why I’m suddenly alone, angry as to why I let myself get fooled. I knew it would end. Knew I once again had to stabilise the boat.
I lowered my guards and came out broken.