|Ebb and Flow.
||[Mar. 7th, 2007 ♠ 12:11 am]
I think I took a wrong turn somewhere. Every captain gets it wrong at least once, but this is ridiculous. I am starting to realize that maybe I lost something more important than I once thought when I left; something crucial, a part of me that I can't get back no matter how I try because of how I lost it, or perhaps because of where I lost it. Maybe it is because I don't know exactly what it is I lost that I can't find a way to get it back.|
Lucy left. I don't know what to think about that. I told her I needed some time, and she gave it to me with distance. I miss her, but I wonder if this isn't for the best. A lot has happened since I came back, and at the same time, very little has occurred. It feels as though I'm constantly sailing upstream, always advancing and never getting anywhere. It's entirely possible I am simply sailing sideways; though I have the nagging notion that perhaps my ship is on the wrong route entirely.
During the course of this past week, I've had my eyes opened to many levels. I have noticed things, seen things, and felt things that I had no previously sensed. I had so much anger; this vengeance just boiled inside me, my blood red vapors crawling in my veins. But that's gone now, to a degree. I'm still angry, though more than angry I am hurt. And yet I feel as though I have no right to be; and it's not because she didn't do something wrong: she did. I think it's because so did I, and it may not even have been to her.
Did I go too fast, and if so what is too fast, what is too slow; too much, too little, and how do I find a spot between that grants me immunity to doubt and indecision? You think a pirate's life teaches you all those things and more; you think after a year at sea, traveling and learning life's lessons via harsh and cruel methods, you come back wiser in all ways possible.
You don't. I have lost something. I have lost something valuable and I don't know what it is, and there is no X to mark the spot where I buried it; the winds and tide have washed away the marker, and I'm digging holes where I'm not sure I should be. But I keep finding things. I find things inside me and I toss or keep; it's a dissection of my soul and it hurts so very much.
I see them every day and we don't talk. I have spent weeks saying not a word and thinking they were better off. I think that for once I have presumed far too much. It stings, like a lash across my back, that I could have been so wrong and risked so much; and I wonder what the price I have to pay is. I wonder if there's enough left of me to pay it.
But through all this I know there are some things that I can't not fight for; some things that I took for granted. A platform doesn't stay stable unless you hold it up once in a while and tighten its hinges.
Don't get me wrong, I hope she comes back. I love her; she's my princess whether she fit the role or not, and at this point I don't think I could say no. But it's up to her now. She can read this; she'll know. But someone told me I can't have romance without a life outside it; and I think she's right. I think I've been ignorant.
I think it's time I stopped dwelling.