Sleepy Boats

Day Zero Project

Everything is so loud here lately, sniffling noses and blunt statements and the TV is constantly talking. The payback for the quiet whooshing of life floating by for a few months, I suppose. I have two sisters who seem to think lava words are necessary, and I find it unfair that I have to bite my tongue, but I do it anyway. It is brown and rainy, so unfit for Wisconsin in December, but it’s just another thing I can’t choose.

My friendships are sleepy but that’s OK. I’ve always preferred the moon and the soft skating of leaves in place of loud, expectant voices. Everyone is so demanding and I embrace it because I love them. I always fall in love with things that punch my soul in the face. It intrigues me that I am not weeping or an angry outburst in relation to my May friend; maybe I finally have a hand on a rope that isn’t burning. I’m pulling myself up by my bootstraps, as it were.

I feels nice to not be weighed down by tests and insufferable assignments. My life is not charted by a calender anymore; instead, I travel by the direction of the wind. My feet feel slippery but maybe it’s only the seaweed, because my arms are making powerful strokes in the water. Water, one of my favorite analogies, as I love the sea and boats even though I’ve never experienced them fully. I want it painted on my body but the two nickels never show up at the same time.

Sometimes I feel like I’m saying more than I’m ready to say; sometimes I feel like I’m saying nothing of importance at all.

How is it possible to feel so full and vibrant and also feel drained, lifeless, stretched thin?

Love,
Amanda