-A SHORT REST-

TheNightWriter
Apr 17, 2018
2 min read

Sometimes I feel like I’m a little girl

with tiny, pink bows resting in high, poofy pigtails on her head; floating through the ocean on a rocky wooden boat.

The twisting of paddles “forward, back, forward, back” blisters the inside of my palms. They’re likely to explode “forward back forward” sooner and sooner, inflating larger and larger as a puffer fish puffs its cheeks.

The people that surround me are just islands that I use as pit stops to rest my

scabbing mental and physical cuts and bruises. Every so often I hear the soft scrape of wood against sand, and jump out to escape the crashing waves I’ve left

behind... for now at least.

I’m a little girl again in a little white dress, spinning in circles with sparkling, white sand dancing between my toes. I hear the sharp sound of exotic birds, and the

rock songs they create twist and bounce between my eardrums. The wind sinks beneath my skin. The tears I had before due to the pain and agony that my blistering

hands had caused all goes away when those same tears hold hands with the breeze to be whisked away.

But this must all come to an end because this embodiment of a person, this island, was merely that. A pit stop. A short rest to repair my soul is all this visit was.

The cuts have stitched themselves and my pulse has slowed. It’s time to push the boat back out into the crystal blue bottomless pit.

Don’t worry about me when I venture through the seas of crashing waves and free for all aquariums. I’m left with only me and me only.