i met you as the ship was departing. i didn't even notice that we'd set sail, looking at you and the sunrise over the sea and the colors that the crew painted on the deck. you told me jokes, we grew together. it was going to be a long voyage. we sailed for a year before we stopped at a dock. every single day had been sunny and warm, exactly how i'd hoped; but somewhere along the way, i'd fallen in love and you'd grown distant. a new passenger pulled us back together as we departed. thunder rumbled as the shore disappeared, and as the months went by, the sky turned black. i started getting seasick. the new passenger grew into me, and together she and i crested the first wave and fell. you were there. the bunks had been shaking so hard that we tied ourselves down, but the ropes were rubbing and when the wind pulled back, she and i were bleeding. she knew how to treat them, but this was my first time at sea. you were horrified, and i felt awful. i let the ropes go, but the storms only got more violent. my seasickness was constant. a new year began. she fell overboard a few times, and was only narrowly saved. after a few months, i decided rope burns were better than my entire body aching. i tied myself down again. my bunk was soaked, but i dyed the sheets black and no one noticed until red started dripping onto the floor. this time, the sailors noticed too, and rushed me to the infirmary. i let them. the storm tossed me and i did not fight it. you and i somehow grew closer and closer the whole time. we were together. i accumulated bruises constantly as the storms got worse. even though the wind and rain and lightning each storm, there were periods of light grey sky in between now. you held me every time a storm stopped, and even though i knew another would come, i felt safe. i thought the storms were hell, but it was better then. the year drew to a close with a smile on my face, but as we arrived at a new dock, i was forced off of your ship and onto another. i wrote letters to you, and to her, but our carrier pigeons started dying as the ships sailed further and further apart, and i believed that you both had forgotten me. my new ship was smaller and sturdier, but tossed even more in storms. the thunder got louder and slowly deafened me. every storm was worse than the last. i tied myself down and the ropes cut into me, but i was tossed around my cabin nonetheless. i gave up trying to tie myself down. one of my books slammed into my chest, denting it in. i propped it back out with metal so i could breathe, but everything was heavy. i continued, doing as i was told, speaking when spoken to as long as i could hear what they said. the storms stopped leaving space in between themselves. i grew tireder and number and wished to simply fall off the ship, but i was needed, and so i did my duties. the pigeons came less and less, and i rarely responded when they did. when there was not space belowdecks, i clung to a sail and let the rain pelt my face until i was clean. the ropes burned, but i stopped noticing. i got used to being seasick. i longed to be warm and dry and feel something good again. we occasionally met other ships, and people got off and on. i never knew anyone for long. sailing is tiring. i have the strength now only to clean my cabin, which i polish spotless every day. the captain has offered to let me off, but i refuse. i will not assign my duties to another, but i secretly hope the ship is retired at the next dock. i do not know where i will find a home on land, but there must be one somewhere. until then.