Then you don’t know me.
You don’t know how much of this life I’ve walked alone, that I’ve had to be my own lighthouse, and if this is what scares you, well…
Maybe you’ll learn.
You’ll learn brick by brick, with spirit level, mortar, and grout. Eventually you’ll gauge the right elevation, where to cast your lamp and from which headland. You’ll learn to pick from the dashed bodies of your broken self, you’ll learn which cargo can be salvaged and what must be discarded.
You’ll learn that so much of your self is simply this:
Detritus.
Or you won’t learn. That’s ok too.
But I have no time for the blind, the easily seduced, searching for siren’s lights.
Lost in a shipwreck of their own making.