The Ocean
I think it all goes back to those cold and windy days staring out into the ocean. Feeling the wind striking against my face, barely able to keep my eyes open brought me a strange sense of comfort set against that vast stage. Even in the sour infinity that is loneliness, there is warmth. I believe that. I must. My thoughts are the waves. Powerful and bold, crashing against the rocks with such violent force. Even tongue tied, the salty taste of everything said, or left unsaid, stays with me. It’s ok these fleeting moments that I realize how much I should mean. Everything I am is everything I am. A complete self. The place where I can only begin to see myself comes and goes, I understand that. All I can ask is that you pick up a seashell every now and then. Try to hear my voice. Are the things I say the same as the things you hear? Well, what’s more important is the fact that you try to listen in the first place.