Oops I Did it Again

I don't know what's with me and writing. Can't even blog properly. How long has it been now?--no, I don't want to count. It hasn't been a month yet like my last unannounced hiatus. I haven't completely abandoned you guys.

Not that there are all too many people out there--at least not for me!

My problem is that I feel as if nobody wants to hear about what I've been up to. I never know how to word things, anyway. Like, "Today I did such-and-such" just seems like such a boring, repetitive format, especially since I don't have anything artistic to enhance it. I haven't even had any writing to post (though I do now, happy day!). I suppose it'll do for now.

Gosh, I haven't been too lumpy since my last post. Since then, I've gone to the pool with Joy, Andrew, and Zack--and then back to Joy's house for s'mores and pizza, which was great. I realized that I have a mild fear of fire. I mean it's beautiful and all, but I couldn't feel comfortable getting too close to it. That doesn't seem too abnormal!

We also cleaned the house (my room was so gorgeous until I went back to throwing clothes all over the place). Since the house is only clean never, I took advantage of this oppurtunity to invite some people over! I invited Kristen and Zack, but Kristen had to cancel last-minute, and Tegan had a dentist's appointment, so for an hour it was just Zack and me. I completely beat him at Mariokart! Then we gave him a makeover as punishment. For some reason he didn't agree, but I thought he looked gorgeous <3

This past Wednesday--happy belated Independence Day, by the way!--I went to the mall with Kristen. I didn't get anything, but it was fun hanging out with her, since we hadn't seen each other since last month. Later, I went to see fireworks with Kim, who I hadn't seen all summer! I love fireworks. There were a bunch of people we knew from school there, but no one I was really friendly with. Next year it'd be fun to go as a group or something.

I can't believe it's July already. It's been really hot, but I'd love to go to the park and ride bikes some time. Unfortunately, Maia is still at camp, and Tegan just left for vacation, so there's no one within park-radius. Oh well! I suppose boredom in summer isn't unexpected.

I finally wrote something that I like after such a dry spell. So tell me what you think! It doesn't make much sense right now, but only because it just started, I promise!


My name is Marigold. I never told you that before; at first because I couldn’t trust you, and then because I liked the way you said my other name. It’s actually my middle name, what you’ve been calling me. But I thought you ought to know my actual name. I like it better than the other one, which is rather plebian, honestly. I got used to that one, though. Nobody really said my real name much before then, anyway. I guess you could call me that now. But you might be used to the other name. And of course you calling me anything is hinging on the fact that you make it here—I think you will, because I want you to so badly. I really, really want you to be here. What comforts me, really, is that you must also be wondering if I made it back. Right now you must be worried sick about me. Imagining what it would be like if you come back and I hadn’t. I guess that shouldn’t comfort me, but it does. I guess someone like Isabelle would say that if I really loved you, I wouldn’t want to imagine you in pain. But we have the same pain, right now. It’s like our hearts are breaking right in the same way. I guess that’s what comforts me.

I’ve been waiting here for days and going absolutely mad. I keep thinking of the last time we saw each other. I wish I could’ve gone with you, so if you were dead then I’d know right away. Or maybe I could try to save you—maybe you’d try harder to hold on, if I were with you. If you do come back, though—when you come back—I don’t think I’ll be able to say anything. But there are things I want you to know. I want you to know my name, finally. And I think you’d want to know what happened to me when I left you. I can imagine you just telling me everything and I won’t be able to say anything because I’ll be sobbing so hard, and I’d be so, so, so happy to see you. So I can hand you this and you’ll read it and understand. I also need to pass the time, somehow, because nobody’s letting me do anything. They don’t want me to go back out again, not yet anyway. I guess I don’t want to go out before you come back, so you won’t come here and still have to wonder if I’m alive or not. Though maybe you’ll be comforted knowing I’d wonder the same thing, every single moment. You’re a bit more like Isabelle, though—you’d want me to know.

But I do know. I think I would know if you were dead. It just doesn’t feel like I’ve lost you yet. Like you’re gone forever—I think about that sometimes and can’t really breathe. But that’s not how I am all the time, so I guess you can’t be gone yet. I would know. I feel like I would know if you were dead out there, even if I was away from you.

Right after we said goodbye—it wasn’t much of a goodbye, and I’m going to yell at you for that later—I got in the boat with Isabelle and Aveil. I guess you saw me do that. You were sitting on the dock and staring at me. You weren’t crying or anything, or smiling, just staring at me, and it was funny, because when I saw your eyes I felt like I was looking at my own. It felt like I was standing on the dock and on the boat, not like a mirror exactly. I sort of waved, but I don’t know if you saw that. It was a stupid thing to do anyway. Waving isn’t very romantic. I felt like it was a romantic moment. I’d already realized that I loved you, by that time—though you didn’t know that. Now you do. I guess I’ll be blushing when you read this.

Later, Aveil shot the captain. I woke up to the gunshot. I got out of the cot before the sailors realized what had happened, and ran into the captain’s quarters to see Isabelle hunched over with a knife in her gut and Aveil standing over the body. He had already put the gun back in the holster.

“I didn’t know you were still up,” I said.

“He stabbed Isabelle,” he said. “Thought he’d throw us overboard and keep the money. Damned bastard.”

“What do we do about the crew?”

“What are they gonna do about this?” He waved the gun around. It looked so out of place in boat. Shiny and smooth and white in this dirty, wooden relic. “These bastards know better than to bring a knife to a gun fight. He didn’t. I dealt with him. They’ll see that.”

I remember you saying something about bringing a knife to a gun fight before. You did it, literally, back when you were still living in Herston. You stabbed some fools who’d stolen a couple guns off of the officers. They weren’t dead or anything, but you said you’d hated the feeling of it. We went to Herston later and I thought of you doing that so young, but that’s later on. I’ll get to it.

It’s so strange to think we practically grew up together and there was a time before I knew you, when you did things like stab people in the street who threatened you with guns. I can’t match up that image of you with the you I know. Like you’re not you without me—you’ve said that yourself. You said you didn’t know what you were when I wasn’t around. I thought you’d tell me that you loved me after that, but I guess you thought it was assumed or something. I know that you did, but I still wanted you to say it. Maybe when you read this you will.

Avein gathered the crewman on the deck, making his gun very clear and obvious by waving it around a lot. It made some of the sailors nervous; you could see that in their eyes. He told them they could do whatever they wanted with the body of the captain. They threw it overboard after saying a prayer. They said a Verdish prayer, since the captain was Verdish. I thought it was strange that Avein understood the prayer being spoken for the man he’d just killed. Isabelle might’ve known some of it, but I didn’t speak any Verdish. I could never pick things up like you could. I suppose it was just a typical prayer, though. It’s not as if any of them are all too different.

“I’m taking direct control of the ship,” Avein said. He can be forceful when he wants to be, and nobody protested. “You can have it back when we reach our destination and do what you will with it. I don’t give a damn. Till then, no funny business, or you end up in the drink with him.” He gestured roughly towards the throshing black water. The crewmen understood. They belonged to Avein, now.

Does it seem to you like some people are the type of people who own others? That’s what Avein is like, to me. Not like he would own slaves—he wasn’t raised in Verda, after all—but that he can own another person’s soul. I pity the woman he loves, if he ever does. He couldn’t love someone without owning them.