Bucket

Someone told me trying to love me is like dumping a pail of water into a well. I believe this to be accurate.

I suspect I have been at the bottom of the well, digging it further down. “More room for the water, “ I’m probably thinking, which isn’t necessarily incorrect. Down there with a headlamp, sweating, shoveling. I have evaluated and think maybe instead I should work on finding a rope ladder, climbing up, and being part of the bucket brigade.