Whew boy. I have reached the conclusion that perhaps I am not meant to discover true love. Unlike Christopher Columbus discovering America, I have yet to discover a partner who is willing to plant their flag next to mine and make a go of it.
Upon the tumultuous seas of love I flounder. From one wave to another I crash in the darkness. In the lightless night, I attempt to steer toward what I hope is safe harbor. Seeking a port from the storm, my leaking vessel is slowly sinking into the troubled waters of despair. The gale force winds batter my dinghy to the point of tipping. My mast is ripped apart. The rudder is useless to provide a direction. Drifting with no clear heading, I pray that daylight is not far off.
Every time that it appears that safe harbor is in view, the winds howl. The sea foams at it’s gaping mouth, craving for my demise. “It’s hopeless” Exhausted and defeated I succumb to the weariness that has invaded my body. In the darkness, a gentle light breaks the gloom. Renewed with a sense of hope, I aim for the source of my encouragement. “Psyche!” It is only the moonlight peeking from behind the billowing clouds that hold the promise of rain. Dejected and exhausted, I surrender to my quickly approaching doom.
This is an excerpt from my first attempt at writing fiction for English Composition I. My instructor would be so proud.