Sweat beads down my face as I struggle for breath. I reach for the rope, that’s cutting off my air. I grasp nothing but mist. This world is choking me like a chicken bone caught in my throat. You can’t fight back against something like that. Just hold your breath and get mean. Stay mean to live, to survive. Don’t turn your cheek, strike back! Don’t bite the hand that feeds, but if that hand strikes, cut it off! I was playing cards with fate, and I found that sloppy son of a bitch dealing from the bottom of the deck. He reeled me in; I started winning. But I should have known better. Born a catfish, to a family of them means one thing, you are nothing more than a bottom feeder with a hook in your lip. Just waiting for fate to reel in that damned line. Like a good fisherman he lets out some line… Then, BANG. Time to real it in. Now I can’t breathe. I’m flopping on the shores of fates lake slowly losing life. My vision starts to fade. I’m not quite finished yet though. Like a trapped viper will inject itself with venom, I’m full of poison. Come get me fate. I’ll make you choke! I don’t turn the other cheek, I strike back, and I can hold my breath for a long time.