Today I took my heartache to the lake and I stood teary-eyed by the cold water, telling the last of my treasured secrets to the patchwork of swell-headed swans, a spark of hope in that infinite pool of translucent blues. Inside I was as silent as I could be, as silent as the rise and flow of dying flowers, entranced by the flight of birds soaring feverishly overhead. I went there to free myself from the sad thoughts bellowing in the deepest part of my mind, desperate to escape from the drudgery of mundane life, the push and pull of closing my eyes and drifting off into some kind of obscure fantasy. I poured like the most perfect rainy day, but there was one last glint of sunlight radiating through the last of the fading clouds, calling my name like an angel, saying it gets easier.