and that's what washes the brittle mortar holding the bricks of the fabric of my existence together out. i'm on a boat, in the middle of the storm, knuckles white and bones poking through as i grip the wheel so hard the splinters go right through my fading hands. ++ i put myself here in the first place, i should have never talked to you that last year. ++ i should be able to just jump off this boat. but i can't, because the sea monsters would swallow me whole. i have choices, yes: wait till the boat capsizes and i drown in emotion, keep my hands like this and hold out for not even god knows how long, or just give up. simple just like that. but it's not, because i'd get eaten alive by myself. i'm just holding out till the wind might die down and i won't have to work so hard to keep myself sane. i just hope there aren't that many whirpools and scyllas that i'll have to navigate around, because god knows that i can't just fly over them and not even break the surface tension of the oil-splattered water.
HxC Schoolbus Community Member 
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