I wanted to get away, for my life was such a tragic mess. Maybe I needed to go with the flow like I was aloft at sea. If I had the power I would grant an embargo on all these wretched memories as they weighed my head down. I wanted to export all this discomfort and distress and channel it out to the ocean waters. Where they would drift along current of the waves. Over time these feelings would be lost and forgotten. Far out of sight and into the horizon as they would never reach these sandy shores again. Maybe one day I’d find my way back and head towards one direction-which was happiness. Being mislead, abused, and mistreated wasn’t my cup of tea. Each and every day was living hell. I wasn’t from Boston although I thought I was living through a massacre. This torment was killing me inside. Struggling through a dozen hardships and fighting endless battles. It took a toll on my body, yet even worse, my mind. And over the years I’ve taken a beaten and my fair share of bullshit. Battle scars run deep throughout my soma. And I surely didn’t want to become an old sea dog who had a mouth of a sailor or had lost his right mind. I wanted to make peace with myself. Like the calm before the storm and the center of the eye. I was in search of signals. Just like how Revere waved the lanterns, 1 by land 2 by sea. And I clasped my hands together while thinking quietly to myself. We all head enemies bolting towards us. Although this time there weren’t any British heading this way, but instead better days were coming. And that was true. Better days were coming.