Journals Somewhere In The Black

Somewhere in the Black....

I saw my father. Back when I was dead. It's strange, the things you remember in your dreams. I've had a lot of bad ones, lately... a lot of not being able to breathe, of panic. But fragments keep coming up, too, of speaking with my father. It's very blurry... like a sunset in the flatlands -- the //really// flat lands -- during a thunderstorm. Most people wouldn't know what I mean; unless you've ever lived in really flat country, there's no way to adequately describe being able to watch the sunset through a haze of rain, where there's a cloud bank between you and the horizon and it's pouring buckets of water to the ground but it's perfectly clear and blue where you are //and// on the other side where the sun is going down. But when you watch the sun set in those conditions, it's kind of like... seeing it through a haze.

And that pretty much sums up my memories of my conversation with my father -- every day, the details get more and more fuzzy around the edges. The only thing that really sticks is the abstract knowledge that there was love. And the wrenching feeling of being pulled away because it wasn't time and he wouldn't let me come with. Just like the first time I left Boros, he practically shoved me out the door... and his smile was so sad. So knowing. He told me it was time for me to go, told me I could come home any time I needed to and it would always be home... and he very gently closed the door in my face. I feel right now sort of the same way I did then -- like my whole life is stretching in front of me and I've got not one single clue what the hell I'm doing with it.

I've been sitting on this bridge for nearly ten days now, listening to the songs of the Black. The rest of the crew might think I'm insane or something, but I think better up here. It's been my life for far more years than I really thought much about. And since I'm not sleeping anyway, it seems a good time to sort through some of the things that these dreams are bringing up. I'm still having nightmares. A lot of them, though fewer now than when we first left the ground. They're starting to level off a bit too. Maybe just because I'm resolving some things in my own head.

We talked the other night about goals. Again, we didn't really get anywhere, and I guess honestly? I don't really expect us to. Why should //we// be any different from everyone else in the Verse? We're all just trying to get by -- make a living, make enough to eat and clothe ourselves with, and find our place in life. My place in life is piloting... and I'm happy to be doing it, actually. I think it's taken me this long to finally put some things into perspective.

I've been fighting guilt all this time. Nala's husband was an asshole, but things he said... stuck. It's taken me a long time and several //long// conversations with my sister to get beyond them. She says I overthink things. Maybe she's right. But I guess dying on the table and being brought back is reason enough to overthink for a while. On the up side, I think I'm done with it.

So here's what I've learned about myself:

1) I am //not// a murderer, I'm just pragmatic. Maybe too much so, and so I think I'll try to temper that mindset a good bit. To that end, killing people will be the LAST resort -- not that I won't just shoot Potemkin's ass where he stands if we come across him, but it'd be good if we could handle most everything else with less prancing about and mincing words //and// less gunplay. Somewhere in the middle would be gorram nice.

2) There are few people in this life that I trust with my life... and I've been lucky enough to crew ships with two groups of them. If I do not hear from Shyla soon, I'm going to put it to vote to follow them. Whatever trouble they may have run into, they'd answer the Wave I sent if they could. Beuller? Anyone out there, Beuller?

3) I don't expect to get rich on this boat, but I do have a goal for us -- I want a better standard of living. I want us each to actually get PAID once in a while. And I want to not be running for our lives from Nguyen, Potemkin, and whoever the hell else we've offended. Like, oh, BLUE SUN. It might be time to contact Nguyen, at least via Wave, and talk to him. It was suggested a while back, but ... *sigh* I'm the one who said we'd take the job. The others agreed, but he was my contact, and it's my responsibility. (OOC: Steve, will make contact with you on this as soon as I can.)

4) .... Not sure what 4 is yet, but there's sure to be one eventually. Maybe that I don't think I'll ever look at Arden quite the same after knowing he cracked my chest open and held my heart in his hands, literally. It's just too weird to consider his advances after that -- and truth be told, maybe he's feeling weird about it too. He stopped flirting quite as much. Hrmmmm. Interesting....