I took a dip in the still ice and I broke through the spite. The surface air tasted almost as good as the light. I thought I forgot how to thaw in the sun, 'cause in the ice there's nowhere to run. I'm worried one day I'll look back and wonder, “What have I done? When I was given so may different directions to run? Did I just take the back seat? What could I have been? What did I do with the bubble that I should have formed in?” I shrugged it off, robbed it of its shine. It wasn't mine.