To the lighthouse

Once you get past this obstacle you’ll be able to overcome much more in the future. In your career, when politics are involved. In life, when everyone is so busy with theirs they have no time to care for yours. 

Their words still rang in her ears as a cold blast of wind hit her straight in the face. Tears spilled out of her eyes. It must be her body’s natural reaction to the wind – they didn’t stop flowing. She ought to fasten her pace, but her limbs made no indication of any change whatsoever.

The lighthouse was her destination, but she was lost at sea. It had been days, months, and she still hated the smell of fish and the salty taste of the air. Every morning, she would move forth with that same lethargy and force herself to study the best way to get there. Some days would pass by faster than others, but most days it seemed like she had abundant time to be with herself, and she didn’t like what she saw, or felt.

Words and emotions would swell up and make her physically ill. Sick to the stomach and weak in the legs. When this happened she hoped she wasn’t going to come down with something. Usually she would lie down and dream hazy dreams – the gross feeling would usually subside in a couple of hours, or by the next time she awoke.

Occasionally she would see boats fleeting past, with tiny lights blinking at her, seemingly to comfort her very discomfort. She would cry towards those lights, hoping they would echo back, like the pod of dolphins that welcomed their lost member. But her cries would fall upon deafened ears. Her arms ached, her heart ached, and she longed for something, someone until she knows not what she desires anymore.

Sometimes she thought of turning around, back into her safe haven. But no matter how much she cried, or have the monsters and demons dug up raw inside of her, she couldn’t. She was trapped and her only way was forward. Perhaps it was for the best. Like the waves that would come and go, she could now suppress those tumultuous tornadoes and be at peace with herself.

Her ounce of strength teeters upon a string of hope that one day, she would see the lighthouse and wash away all stains of salt in her hair.


Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s