🎵 Runaway

I learned how to sail

I built my ship from nothing, plank by plank until I trusted my own hands at the helm and carved my name into the hull

LeSastra

But the farther I sailed, the less I looked toward shore

The ocean filled my days and followed me into my dreams

I knew how to live at sea. I had begun to forget how to live on land.

Along the way, I met other sailors.

We chased storms, found treasures, and shared our stories.

I thought, "We’ve grown close."

I wanted them to care with the same depth that I cared.

Then.. wanting became hunger.

I became greedy for proof that I mattered to them as much as they mattered to me.

So I began giving.

A lantern from my deck. A map I had drawn myself. A blanket from my cabin.

Then my supplies, until almost nothing remained.

My ship began to sink.

Beneath the waves, I was drowning, I lost myself.

But slowly, one stroke after another, I relearned how to swim.

I reached the surface, returned to my ship, and began to mend it.

I do not hate the ocean or the sailors whose paths crossed mine.

I love the treasures we found, the storms we survived, the laughter we shared, and every lesson the sea was cruel enough and kind enough to teach me.

None of it was meaningless.

But I understand my part.

I kept sailing when I needed rest. I kept giving when I needed to keep something for myself.

I had not learned to hold my boundaries as firmly as I held on to others.

Each time I reached my limit, I moved it farther.

One more voyage. One more thing to give.

Now I am learning loving the ocean does not mean I must keep sailing on it.

Loving other sailors does not mean I must dismantle my own ship to keep theirs afloat, especially when they already have what they need to sail.

So I am turning toward shore.

My life on land is also something worth building.

I think I have sailed enough.

My name will remain carved into this ship as

LeSastra.

But the sailor is finally going home.