|Image credit: halloweenforum.com|
My bloggage may depict a fairly emotionally tumultuous person. Believe it or not, though, i'm pretty mellow, even-keeled, que sera, sera as a sea lion. I don't get riled very often, but i'm tired. Tired of feeling adrift. I'm prolly far enough away from shore to be in the weathered, scurvied, scallywagged stages of it. I'm tired of clinging perilously in the rigging, swinging ropes, perched high in the crows nest waiting, straining for land. Tired of hoping. I'm beaten. I heave along with the whims and pitches of the sea. I'm shipwrecked. Broken. Floating, singing and salty. Wind-whipped. Exposed. I'm churlish, swords and fists, i bark and parrot and cause a ruckus. I'm vulgur. Don't give a shit. Unmoored and boorish. Limping, and leaky and my sails are ripped. Seasick with drifting. Enough. I'm ready to be steady on my own two feet. Firm in my boots without the tossing of greens and blacks and blues. Enough.
I'm tired of being tough.