Dead. Only on the inside that is but I think that is the worst way to die.
To have your soul ripped out. Your heart shattered into million sharp
pieces. Physical death is nothing compared to this pain. I never feared
death. Not in the common way. But this is even enough to stand for me. Not
even the rum can soothe the pain, and believe me, I tried it. Tried to
drown it. I failed miserably. I can still smell her. This familiar smell.
It's still all around me yet so far away. Sometimes, when I'm somewhere
between wake and dream, I can even feel her rocking movements. At least I
think I do. Call it insanity. But if it is I don't suffer from it. I'm
enjoying every single moment of it. Those dazed moments when it feels as if
she was here. Under me. Surrounding me. When I can hear her planks silently
crack, her keel parting the waves. When I can here the wind whisper in her
sails. I know it is not for real but I wish it was. Even more than I wish
that I was dead. And I do. I can't even hate myself for this frailty, this
gutlessness. I'm empty. Hollow. All that is allowed to fill me is the rum,
sweet oblivion of mine. All that fills me is this said liquid, along with
the pain, the desperation. I'm drowning it, one day. I'm trying hard. There
is no life for me without her. I know I should fight to get her back. But
fighting is too hard to even think about when all you wanna do is lay
around somewhere, not thinking at all. Sometimes when it feels as if she
was here, I feel so helpless. Just the way I felt when they went against
me. Took my life away. And let me live to suffer. Well, they didn't let me
live on purpose, that's for sure. It's my fault that I didn't take the
bullet for me. The one they granted me. My fault that I kept it. Stupid
idea of mine to spare it for him. How should I ever get him. With a ship
like her. My life. Senseless plan. If I only had a plan. The rum makes it
easy to forget but hard to plan. Hard to do anything than forget. Why
should I do anything else. To get her back? I think I should give up on
that thought. She's gone. I'm gone. Captain Jack Sparrow is past.
