Alone on an Ocean

I've had a hard time getting a grasp on my emotional state the last few months. In my head I've had this image of what it feels like and whats going on around me on the inside. Below is an extended metaphor for my emotions and just about every line of it means something. I'm not even exactly sure what. But there it is.
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The air is cold. Crisp. If I stay in it long enough, and I will, it will become bitter even. It’s still though so the cold, at least for now, is deceiving. I can see my breath as I breathe. Slowly. I’m dressed warmly but my nose is already red and my ears sting from it, my hair the only thing to protect them. I have my arms wrapped around my body, hugging myself. It’s not for comfort so much as it is because it just seems right. Maybe it is for comfort, I don’t know.

I hug myself, arms wrapped around me and I look out over the horizon. Except that I don’t know where horizon and ocean meet and start and end. The sky is gray and the ocean greyer and in the distance, even when I squint, it’s hard to tell exactly which color is which. I stand in my boat, a small beetlecat type with its own sail. The sail is useless though and it hangs limp in the still, cold air. I unclasp my body and reach out to hold the mast, which seems much too thin for the sail that hangs from it, like it might snap with a hard wind. I know its strong though and it won’t let me down if the wind does ever come.

The grey ocean is quiet, the only noise I hear is the gentle lapping of the water against the boat. There are no waves, no current; rather, it is my own shifting that causes the little laps of water to touch this hollow vessel. I stare out, turn around and try and gain perspective. But I am alone on this cold and desolate ocean. It seems as if its twilight, there is no light from the sun but it is not dark. It is dark but the translucence from the clouds allows for light. Those clouds seem to make the world colder, blanketing this ocean and holding in the cold.

I am alone on the ocean. It is vast and beautiful and without form. I slowly sink and sit in my boat. Not yet desperate but intrigued. I am alone on the ocean and the wind is still and the cold is becoming uncomfortable and my breath is chapping my lips. It isn’t horrible here on this grey ocean, not yet, but it isn’t where I want to be. I keep looking out, hoping that the land will appear out of the undefined horizon but it eludes me. Safe harbor seems a distant dream, I feel like I’m forgetting what warmth feels like. Forgetting seems easier than trying to find it.