I like to pretend, and I did not admit that to myself until this morning.
I deny the reality of my situation because sometimes, many times, things are okay. Any day that I don’t feel as though I am being swallowed by the reality of my circumstance. Any day that I am not reminded of how abrubtly I was thrust into adulthood and constant, real, worry, I am satisfied. Tonight I have been reminded of my role- the son of a shipbuilders’ son.
What fun it is, though, to play the part of a noblemans’ son! I once was, you know. My future filled with promise. I had dreams, as I could afford to. I had hopes, for there was no reason not to. I did not have great love.
Now I have one but not the others, and what a bittersweet exchange it has been!While I would not trade my love, I understand the value of what has been so callously snatched away.
Every so often, when I am reminded that I sail not on the great ship built by my dear father, but on the driftwood that remains, I can feel madness threatening to creep upon me. Surrounded by the endless sea and a dark sky, I feel terribly alone. The nobleman became a shipbuilder, and the shipbuilder something else. I now walk in his well worn boots. Will this shipbuilder become a nobleman, a businessman, a wise man? This shipbuilder does not know. This shipbuilder is simply looking for solid ground: to be filled with promise, to afford to have dreams, to hope because there is no reason why he should not. He was truly endless and did not know it. I am the son of a nobleman whom became a shipbuilder and now something else, and I was once endless. Where does one go from there?