Ahead lies the ocean

I used to be a river boat. Once, I travelled the rivers of Europe. But when I arrived at this final harbour and all other ships in the convoy started unloading, I still felt as if my shipload did not belong here. I'm changing, yet unshakable: I need the waves to rock my bulkheads, I long for the storms and the lack of land; I am setting out for the rough sea.
There is no need to burn any ships behind me to prevent them from following, as I used to at earlier breaking points. They were not built for the oceans and have no wish to risk shipwreck, not even for me. I'm not certain if I am a vessel capable of sailing the ocean, but I have no choice. I can't go back, I'm stifled by the horizons I'm leaving behind. It will be a lonely trip, but that's exactly what I need: a vast amount of personal space. I don't know how to navigate by the stars, but time will teach me. There will be plenty of nights with nothing to do except for watching the rich sky, reflected in the water surrounding me. I don't know where I'm heading and I don't know where I will be welcomed or who will have proper interest in my shipload, but I can't wait to be afloat.