That Sinking Feeling

Her boat was steadily sinking. Though she had tried, and tried, and tried to plug the holes that seemed to multiply by the second, the one thing she had left to hold on to was capsizing, and she would go with it.

She wasn't always alone on the boat. For almost a month's time, she'd strolled along the pier's edges with a boy she thought was perfect. She was so mesmerized when he decided to sit in the boat and push off the pier; she by his side with her head on his shoulder. Everything was surreal and she didn't want to think of an end ever coming.

At first the ride was smooth, there were rarely ever disturbances in the glass-like water, but in the back of her mind, a thought chided her: it wouldn't be like this for long.

And then he went away.

He promised to return in a week and things would pick up just as he left them, but he never came back. She waited in the boat though, reminding herself that things would be okay; he promised and she loved him. She didn't have a reason to believe he'd ever lie to her, but he was quiet and for the most part kept his feelings to himself.

Soon the waters became rough, and the clear, blue sky grew dark and became muddled with swollen, gray clouds. The boat rocked and it rolled, and the holes started to appear. The sky wept with her on the loneliest of nights, but she saw the moon every time. That moon, the only source of light, served as a source for her hope.

"He's coming back," she'd whisper, her voice often drowned out by the thunder that tore through her world. "He's coming back."

Why was she so hopeful? Why couldn't she let go? She would ask herself these questions each time she thought she saw his silhouette along the horizon, but then she'd remember the days when he held her hand and told her she was beautiful, that every thought in her cluttered mind was fascinating, and how she need not worry about "not deserving him;" it was he that didn't deserve her. She'd recall all these memories and reassure herself that he loved her when he left, that his departure wouldn't affect his feelings.

But after weeks she still waded in the boat with water overlapping her toes. After weeks she still felt confident that everything will be fixed in time. After weeks her cheeks were still habitually stained by salty tears, but she remained faithful in the assumption that deep inside, he loved her, and he was on his way back.

However, after weeks she was still alone, and she had drifted too far to remember the direction of which she came.