I wake up in a waterlogged daze. My face is pressed against the cool, wet, and smooth stones of a river's edge. The stream gurgles like a greedy infant in the near-silence of a desolate forest of birch trees. Surely, I must be alone here.
Without sitting up, I curl my knees to my chest. My soaked clothes weigh down my movements as I shift positions. They stick to my frame like a second skin. I notice that my first skin has acquired a color and temperature akin to that of frost.
Prying myself up from the water, I struggle to crawl to a deeper part of the river. The frigid water nearly reaches my elbows. I peer into the river to try to catch a glimpse of my reflection. I want to know if I look as dead as I feel. I gaze into the water I thought would be all-telling, but I am disappointed by what I find. The river flows too violently; there are too many ripples for me to see anything more than a distorted outline of myself.
I lug my frozen bones back to the river's edge and sit on the rocky shore. I grasp a stone from the bank beside me. My fingers slide along its slick surface and into a firm grip. I throw it at the river that has forsaken me, angry that it has denied my simple request. All I wanted to do was see myself.
Sniffling, I run my hand through my hair. My locks are plastered to my skull from being wet, but I loosen them as I comb my fingers through the tresses. I find that my hair is lengthier than I remember. Exactly how long have I been here?
I feel the need to take a good look at myself. I discover bruises crawling up my limbs like vines entwining a trellis. I trace them with my fingers, gently applying pressure to gauge the depth of their pain. I feel nothing through the numbness of the cold. I notice that the contusions have already aged into lighter shades anyways, so they must be old. Had I been caught up in the river? It's possible that I struggled against the current at one time, but I certainly hadn't done so recently.
I look upstream. It flows down from a raised elevation, so I know that must be the direction I came from. Is that where I belong?
Curiosity compels me to my feet. I walk uphill along the riverside, attempting to retrace the steps I don't even recall taking. I amble on for what feels like an eternity, but I don't seem to make any progress.
Weakness brings me to my knees. I stare at the river that stretches out in front of me. Quite literally, it goes on forever. I can never get back to where I once was, no matter how hard I may try. Tears start to fall from my eyes, but they freeze before they can even drop off my face. It is strangely relieving to know that they cannot be swallowed up by this mean river.
Eventually, I collapse back into the river in defeat. I have lost everything. I can't overcome this vicious current; it will never freeze over or stop flowing. I begin to forfeit my frustrated consciousness, and I can feel my body slipping back downstream. As I drift away once more, I realize what has happened to me.
My life was washed away by a river of careless habits, and it is nobody's fault but mine.
