When melancholy washes over me, it is like a big tidal wave. It completely engulfs me and I try to swim back to the surface, to peek my head through the water. But I struggle to keep afloat, being pushed down and buoyed up over and over again and again. Eventually I swim ashore and I shake off the seawater that glistens on my skin. Difficulty to breath breeds gratefulness for air. For that realization, I am appreciative of being drowned, but only after the fact when I regain my ability to breath.