Bereavement Of Speculation.

I always need a little bit of what could kill me.
That is, water.

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I ventured out into the world on my own; the glints of light reflective of the sun upon the ocean surface stung at my eyes as waves curdled and the soft winds caused ripples in the water. I squinted as I examined the vast blue that was beyond me, saving my eyes from the acute particles that threatened to embed as crystals into my foggy eyes.

Waddle, waddle... I struggled to maintain momentum as I found myself wading through thick dunes of sand, which, magnified by the sun, reflected immense heat which stung and burned at my feet. I hopped and dwardled along, desiring so much simply to feel the rush of cool water lapping against my stubby legs.

But the shore was so far away, and clouds began to muster up their heaviest sighs. They grumbled in chagrin, and overthrew the sun's eminence with their own howling billows. Drizzles turned into rain, and whistles turned into whips as the storm began its melancholic dance.

I am too slow.

There were dangerous times ahead, and it was only reasonable to retreat. Within this shell, where everything within is so intensely personal, and can only be seen by a single person, every secret hidden in every crease and crack, shadowed by the distant light of the outside world.

I am secure here. I am safe from the pelting rain over my shelter, the icy cubes that knocked on my roof. From the slice-and-dice play of the wind and sand duet, I can recollect my thoughts and abandon my journey until it is clear.

But I am lonely.

Sheltered in a shell, and moving so dreadfully slow that as I climb, I feel like I'm falling rather than hiking.

I am owning the characteristics of a turtle.

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Dreadfully sick, it's horrid. Handkerchiefs are so stupid.

LOL, Sarah.
And Amy, the the lyrics are the video's song!