When the voyage comes to an end
From the library, to Berlin, to my room. I was sitting, being swayed by the ships gentle rocking, trying to think of what to write for this creative writing piece. Creativity is what I love, from the strokes of my paint brush to the words in my poems, but for some reason I could not think of a topic to write about. Many ideas rushed through my head, through my body and all the way down to my fingers typing on my laptop, but that’s all they were, ideas. They were the beginings to something that could be great, but of course my brain haulted as soon as I got to the third sentence. Ideas flowing out of my mind, but not much I could write about them. I started with the shock I get when I look at my planner and realize we have a small handful of days left. Not wanting to cross of the days with my favorite blue gel pen, like I had throghout the entire voyage. Then I thought about home. How in just a few days I will be dropped back into reality with nothing but experiences I want to share with people who will probably only care about how much I partied. With acception of my mom, of course, who will tie my legs and arms to the family room couch until I tell her every single detail about the voyage, even the one's I would like to leave out. I thought about life on the ship. Staring out into the ocean during dinner time at a table with 10 people even though it could only fit 5. Looking out towards the back of the ship as the ripples in the water disappeared after our passing. Which then made me think about our experiences in the countries. Will they be like the ripples, for the people of the country that hosted us? Will our experienes not match up to theirs with us and dissapear as the ripples behind our ship did? After that, the thought about all the amazing experiences I had in country came to mind. All the children, whose faces lit up with joy. Walking through Pompeii, realizing that it was once home to people just like us living their lives day by day, 10 years after I had learned about it in my elementary school class. Then of course I began to think about the people I was with. The friends who now seemed like family even though I only met them a few months back. Friends who would laugh at me whenever I lost odds making me do something absolutely ridiculous or the friends who would walk into my cabin just to say hi and we'd end up having deep conversations about the world we traveled. The uneasiness I get when I realized I have to leave this life soon. The nervous feelings in the pit of my stomach when I think about finding my place at home again. The sadness I feel throughout my body knowing that as soon as I disembark this ship I will never be crammed on a table in the middle of the ocean casually having dinner with my best friends. The experiences that will never be relived the exact same way and the inability to fully explain them to others. The friends who experienced the world with me. From the library, to Berlin, to my room. Realzing that soon I will no longer be able to write papers as the ship rocks me like a baby.
