Please don’t tell me to be patient.

Or to relax.

Those are the worst things to tell an agitator.

Don’t tell me just come over for a swim

The warm water even warmer then the stifling air.

Just have a glass of rose.

Eat some Brie on fig toast.

All will be okay.

It’s not okay.

For those struggling with addiction

There is no pool to release themselves from a hot July day.

No bottle of chilled rose to take the edge off of poverty

No amount of relaxation that will stop her from feeling worthless after her lip is busted

Her child cries.

And you drink your wine.