thewordofweb: (hint of grin)
I nearly didn't make it down to the boat today. I'd gotten up, done my chores around the house and said my goodbyes to Joe and Sophie, but then I'd gotten caught gaping at my reflection and what was undoubtedly some plan to foil my mood in the form of a gray hair. At thirty-two, I really shouldn't be spouting hair that shade, and yet, there it is.

I'd already been having issues. After all, boyfriend who's forty, relationship hitting ten years, the same routine over and over again on the Island. What are you even supposed to do? How are you supposed to live your life with any kind of...well, anything. Call it a midlife crisis, but I was having the most uncomfortable time when it came to this. Honestly, I just want to strike out, do something different, be somewhere else.

The only else I have though, is the boat. I drop my things down at the base of the dock to start loading it up, trying not to catch my reflection in surfaces, lest I see something new, like a wrinkle.
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.
thewordofweb: (harvard: by cleopancake)
The breeze is fairly decent today that I'll be able to get us drifting out on open waters, far enough away that the Island in general will fade into the obscurity of a small blot no one will have to think about. There's food in the galley as I've started to stock it up, always liking a night away when I can get it. Joe's told me about Trisha, about what happened. I just know that I'm still not sure of my place or what I ought to do.

I'd always chosen ignorance, before. It seemed easier. I invited her to the boat for a day of sailing and fishing and if she does want to come, maybe we can talk about things. Or maybe I'll just get to indulge in denial a little while longer.


thewordofweb: (Default)

May 2014

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