It is an ocean because it looks endless.
It is not an ocean because its waves are not regular. There is no pattern to them. No tide.

It is a friend because it invites me to get better.
It is not a friend because it holds me underwater for merciless spans of time.

It is darkness because I cannot make out its edges.
It is not darkness because there is no rest in it.

It is a mountain because it makes me feel small, my legs weak. It compels them nonetheless.
It is not a mountain because as I ascend, there are no answers.

It is stillness because movement is impossible.
It is not stillness because peace is impossible.

It is living.
It is not living.

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Death, ReflectionBird CoxComment