bgale2009
If there was anything I could get stuck on, it definitely was not the idea of living here for much longer. I know that these rocky shores are so awash with problems nestled deep in it's nooks and cranny's that a clean slate is out of the question. despite this, regardless of whatever life keeps hurling my way, by days end it is still my boat to fix.
I cannot remember where I started, or where I was destined by this point in time. The tunnels ran through the dirt like holes eaten by worms. I knew coming here in secret may not have been my wisest decision, and now that I may never escape from this place, I almost wish I had never came.
One of those days again. I was coming back from school, riding the same three hour commute I was forced to take every weekend. By the time I arrived to the good ol' dungeon with the gang, I would have that simple question: what do we do when we have nothing to do? Every week, on Thursday before I had to go to bed to work, we lit up and got blasted.
My elders always enchanted me with their stories. It seemed like they had lived through every myth, fable, and origin pertaining to everything I knew. Wit such fancies and roles already played out, I often wondered when it would be time for me to weave my own tales.
There was a marsh out back of the farm I grew up on as a child. There was nothing too special about it, but one part looked like the shore of a lake when you walked through enough of the trees. I remember walking out there, always pretending to be a pirate, then one day we did find treasure; a full container of coins. I got $100 from that small hidden cache, and at 6 years old, I felt like I was on top of the world.
I always found I could not just give a simple piece of news, advice, or reason. There was also a story to almost everything I said. Some people tell me this is just the offshoot of wisdom, others tell me I just talk to much. whatever it was that constituted it, I feel like I also agree with both sides.
bleeting and belting, inturrupting music, and keeping their towers locked from the human interest, I saw the lambs with the goats. This, to me was unusual for I had always seen them as two different sides of the same coin. one of violence, and one of fear. Where then, did this lamb come from?