I carry everything I’m afraid to lose and afraid to keep in a small boat lost at sea. I see the lighthouses ahead, so far away, but I know they’re there. I’m not always on this boat, but I discovered recently, I often find myself there. Wading through all my shit, trying to find the good stuff beneath, but sometimes I get tired and find myself on my back, exhausted, looking up at the stars, thinking, "Well, ain’t this nice.“
Sometimes I feel as though I am below deck, staring at all my sea creature friends. The beasts of the sea who get me more than I feel man ever could. I hear fighting and scuffling above me, but I pretend I don’t. I am far away in my special place where no one can find me. Where I have kept myself safe for a long time.
The more I visit my little boat, the more I see and remember as I dig through all the junk. My fears. My nightmares. My hurts. My dreams. My sweetest memories. My greatest loves. I venture into the known and unknown. I exist in the past, present, and future. I want to go to shore and find others, but I don’t know how.
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