Oceans

Welcombepastelsky

I’ve walked and I’ve walked and now I’ve reached the shore. The sun contemplates sinking into the sea for the night, but it stays there, suspended in pastel, for a while longer. There is a very slight breeze and the water is calm. Gently rippling, it stretches out like a sheet of silk. The light is dimming and I am alone.
I walk along the shoreline a little way and think about how I got here. The things I have seen. I’ve been so alone, confused and lost without you, yet the things I felt were so vivid. They got me here. The incessant, unrelenting scrutiny of my own mind, and my own self, has brought me here to the sea.
My feet suddenly feel hot and stifled, so I take off my shoes. I need to feel the ground. I need to feel the sand between my toes. I sit down at the water’s edge and think about you, and where you might be. I wonder what you look like now, and what makes you happy. I wonder what you are thinking right at this moment. I wonder if you think about me. I wonder if you smile upon me.
I think about walking into the sea and forgetting how to breathe, but that’s not what I want. I want to be alive. I’d rather feel excruciating pain than feel nothing at all. I want to feel it all. What is living without embracing all of life? The weight of it, the lightness of it. The things that keep you breathing.

Water laps at my toes. Cold, icy; stinging my skin. And that’s the most true, and important thing. There are oceans between us, but I can feel the water washing over my feet.

(I would like to say a huge thank you to Mark, for his ‘a little off centre, but not too far’ moments, and his bus stop gold.)

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