I’m not sure when it all begins. The point of breakdown. Looking in retrospect, there were a lot of punctured holes that I neglect to my sail. The birds roosted on top of it. I didn’t chase them away. Just them there. Time multiplied them, while the holes remained. I never patched them up. I tried to get a new sail, thinking that it was the fault of the boat.

But, it seemed that even with the new boat, the ghost of the old ship didn’t go away. It dragged itself behind. I foolishly ignored it and turned my attention somewhere else. Who would have thought? My current boat sank. It got smashed into pieces against the torrents and the rocks. I again neglected the cracks, the holes, and the enormous weight that it was pulling the ghost ship. It was like a realization of a terrible omen. I’m almost head deep into the water. To my fortune, it happened that for 48 hours, the water lowered and revealed an islet. I tried to gather the supplies there. Savaged the broken parts of my ship. But I knew the ghost ship loomed somewhere behind the fog. The coast isn’t clear. I found a parchment of clothes and some charcoals bit. What should I do with my life? The hours were almost up. Soon, the water will submerge this islet and I had to go on. But with what?

“The paragraph is long-winded. Who is going to read it? Nobody ain’t got time for this.” The ghost ship hollowed into the wind and sang its deary song.

Have I realized that all these time that I’m the one dragging this ghost ship around with me? I’ve never put it down to rest. Have I finally realize that all these time, for whatever grand or self-sabotaging reasons, I would return to the streams of the past and try to muddy the water, then create a ghost ship to haunt me. The old boat had set sail down the stream of past already. For whatever the happy and painful memories, the currents of the streams have already moved on. I was the only one flailing about, screaming and trying to drown myself in the shallows. Would it have been so much better if I pick myself up and lie down onto the soft pink sand on the bank and gaze up to the milky way above, while the current flow by? Hearing only the turbulent and gentle flow of the streams.