I feel a rage growing inside of me, white hot and fuming. 16 years have passed and I still have not uncapped this bottle of frustrations. I have tried to ship it out to sea with my secrets, madness and pain encapsuled. Somehow, the stream always finds it’s way back to me. The water always rises and brings my bottle back to me. I can feel it surfacing, bobbing like a buoy, with every slight annoyance. I can not hide from skeletons forever or they will pull me in to the closet with them, by my ankles, they will pull me in and they will lock the door.