Apr. 15th, 2009

thewordofweb: (whine: by paleopirates)
The truth of the matter is simple if you care to break it down into words that could belong in any book. I found the information on the bookshelf and I vanished in a fit of pique. Then I came back and neither Skinny or Grant could help me. And I still am too chickenshit to talk to Joe about it. I've barely just told him I love him, how can I possibly manage to ask him if he's willing to be enough for me to give up the rest of my life on the ocean for him?

Beyond that, I feel weary and broken. I've been spending the days to myself and even now as I go to fetch supplies to stock up the Homestead, my eyes are red and my cheeks are pale and wan, the result of too many hours spent shouting at the sea, screaming to a God who never listened before, shedding angry tears and feeling hopeless.

I just want to get in and out and as I descend the stairs past offices and beds, I just pray that no familiar faces can see my startlingly unfamiliar one.

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