Drift

I’m trying to grasp a pile of sand and take it off shore.

But, I’m a boat.

I’m a small wooden boat no one would use. My wooden boards are chapped and cracked, uneven, and barely holding together. I was imperfectly made, and time and humidity decided to take their toll on me and make everything much worse.

“Love, hunt me down.
I can’t stand to be
so dead behind the eyes.”

I love sand, and sand does not love me back. Sand cannot come with me.

Every time I find things that make my life a little bit easier, away I drift from them. I cannot control it, I just find the waves sweeping me away, even if I haven’t spent enough time with them, even if I haven’t said goodbye.

Sometimes I lose track of the space and time I’m swimming through, and I cannot tell whether it’s me who’s drifting, or them drifting away from me.

“And feed me,
spark me up.”

It doesn’t matter, what matters is that I feel alone and I have no one to blame but my maker.

I am a boat, and I am so tired of the water seeping in between my cracks. It makes me so cold. It makes me slower, and it makes me feel like my end is approaching, I can feel myself getting heavier and heavier, and nothing is stopping it.

I don’t want to keep moving all the time. I really wish I had an anchor to throw and just decide for once where I’d like to stay, even if for a short while… but it’s like where I am at a certain point in time is never my decision.

“A creature in my blood stream
chews me up,
So I can feel something.
So I can feel something.”

I really am so sorry.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Lyrics are from “Touch” by Daughter.