Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"what is it for a poet to drown herself in the oceans if there is so much to write about?"
a good friend of mine asked me with no remorse — i was caught red handed as I think of the non existing reasons why I endlessly write about the sea.
perhaps there is something at its waters that made fall in love. Funny isnt it? sometimes I almost feel like enchanted as I find myself passionately let the mad waters embrace me. It wasnt cold, nor mad, it almost feels like home I always want to rest my whole being with.
with no hints of denial I know I was born to prosper. None of the things I do is subject for a waste so I sometimes drown myself in the oceans of expectations and supposed to be success that is sometimes out of reach and YES, I fail too.
but just like the oceans, I sometimes fail to reach the shore with my calm waves and if I do, I wreck myself trying to be mad just to reach the shoreline for whom i thought was the pinnacle of success — but no, I was wrong .... those success were the end of me.
"was I happy?" Wait, let me rephrase that "do I make them happy?" well ofc, i do make them happy even if it ll cost my sanity.
Unforgiving, mad — that is how the sea appears to others, is it? or is it how you want it to appead because I dont feel its angst and agony and maybe ... I am full of it that I find no reaction when its water hits me.
so what is it to the sea that I write about? if its not the waters and its unforgiving waves — then what?
we'll, maybe im just tired; and the idea of the sea hides it all, like its not meant to be seen if you dont dive deep
