I'm trying to form a predictable relationship with uncertainty. I've known her for a while, and in retrospect I think I had an amiable connection with her. For instance, in December 2016, I was certain about her growing presence in my life. I lived in a tiny walled water body, where she only appeared as an uninvited current. That year, I extensively documented my days, knowing that I wouldn't be attending school again. It was a silly thought for a 10th grader, but I knew that uncertainty rules outside the schedules of institutions. "I'm going to miss the certainty of Mondays," I had said to my friends, already feeling the turbulent presence of uncertainty in the flow of time. They had nodded in understanding. Ever since, I've chased the safe shores of schedules at work and home. And uncertainty has only grown violently closer to me. She keeps building behind my back, only to slap me in the face when I turn back to acknowledge her. Today, I feel her presence growing again, and I'm tired. So, I wish to embrace her when she comes rushing to engulf me this time. I'll give her a tight hug, tumbling in unfamiliar directions, and continue again, wherever and whenever. I'll be resilient and persistent. Not like a rock that erodes over time, but like a seaweed that takes root anywhere, everywhere, no matter.