I am lost, as if at sea, but it’s not despair. Losing my direction, not because I do not see the light from the lighthouse, but because I cannot choose my destination anymore. And I’m scared, to take haven at that harbor that treats me well, saves my life, gives respect and loves me so. I am scared because I do not know how long I will want to stay, if I will hurt the memories of the ones who will choose to remember me there. If I stop, will I make room for a home at the shore, or will I miss wandering at the sea some more. Losing my direction because I do not know where to go. I see the light, but I do not always wish to follow. Some nights, I just wish to lay in the darkness and observe the stars from the middle of the sea. There’s peace at the shore, but it’s even more peaceful here. If I know myself, I’ll wreak havoc to my home. There’s no scope for that at the sea, when I’m by myself. But when I cry, my tears add to the depth of the sea where I am afloat, and they distance me further from any sources of life. That scares me too. I do not want to be alone, I want to be with you, I want to come back home. But I’m lighting flares, I do not know if we’ll catch fire, if I’ll burn it all down someday
