Write one leaf from which you cannot escape.

I drift down my mud-slide of a life on a little, wooden, make-shift raft. It is falling apart. Mud sloshes up through the gaps between the little logs. Mud is splashed all over my body. Mud is caking and re-caking on my skin. I try to scrape some off as I slide down the muddy river. All over I itch. It hurts to sit on this uncomfortable raft. I barely miss the rocks, sliding on by. It goes on and on forever. There comes a giant boulder in the middle of the river. I almost miss it, but I crash. My raft shatters, most of what’s left of it sweeping away down the mud-slide. I still have pieces of it. I could continue drifting down the mud river, eventually drowning or crashing to my death on the next rock. I sit stranded on the boulder. I want to get out. The only way is to swim up stream, I start to drift again but I swim back to the rock. I won’t be pulled any further down the river. I try to swim against the current, making little progress. There is one other way, but it hurts. I don’t know if I can do it, so I ignore it. I continue to struggle against the mud-slide. I am exausting quickly. Soon I will either have to choose the painful route or continue sliding to my death. There is no escape in sight.