Salvage ships

My days are a blur. With everyday passing through like water through fingers, it seems that way. Today I woke up and I thought to myself, "fuck I'm in a rut."

While my busineses are in order (very happy about), I now have the time to notice the gaping holes in my romantic relationship that I've tried to plug shut with something I call bullshit. My boyfriend and I are sailing on a salvaged boat built with planks of comfort from being each other's company. Some people are more than happy with a "constant", a constant company in his or her lives. A "constant" is something familiar like that tatered Carebears blanket that you stroke a hundred times in order to fall asleep at night. When we feel down that constant is something that we crave because he or she could produce comfort better than a pint of Ben and Jerry's, hence when he or she is gone Ben and Jerry is second best.

My relationship is in power struggle for equilibrium. We both want each other, yes. It's a fight of our lives, whether or not to meet each other half way, outside of our comfort zones to make it work or to just stay in our sides. We are both fiercely holding down our forts. No one is budging because we like the idea of "us". We like the idea of having each other even if it meant having to turn our cheek on the creaks and leaks of this salvaged ship.

Like pulling out a bandaid from a hairy part of your leg... I like the suspense I suppose.