Ocean Kisses

Oh Hello

If you ever think the ocean has a pulse, then I'm here to tell you, my friend, you're correct. I remember hearing it—the heartbeat of the sea—as I was thrown overboard from a fishing boat. I thought I was going to drown, the cold, salty water engulfing me. I was sinking, struggling to keep my head above the waves, but then, something strange happened. As I was falling deeper, almost beyond where the light could reach, I felt it. The subtle, rhythmic beating of the ocean.

At first, I thought it was my own heartbeat, erratic from the panic of being swallowed whole by the sea. But then, I realized—it was something else. The deep thrum reverberated through my entire body, almost like the ocean itself had a pulse, a life of its own. It wasn’t just in my chest; it was everywhere, vibrating through the water, shaking me to my very core. The shadows began to close in all around me, and I could barely see anything except for the faint light above, flickering like a distant memory.

In that moment, I was weightless, suspended between drowning and being pulled deeper into something much larger, much older than myself. The current around me was thick, heavy, almost sentient, and it held me there. Time seemed to stretch out endlessly as I drifted deeper, feeling the pulse grow louder, stronger. It was as if the ocean was breathing me in and out, and I was both part of it and an outsider, lost in its vastness.

I don't know how I made it back onto the boat. I should have died. I remember nothing but the cold, the silence, and the pressure of being submerged. My clothes were completely soaked through when I came to, drenched in the saltwater that still clung to my skin. I was lying on the deck, gasping for air, but that heartbeat... it never left me. I asked the others on board if they'd heard it too, if they'd felt what I felt. They just looked at me, confused, shaking their heads. The heartbeat of the ocean, though, that was real. It was something that had echoed through my entire being, and it felt as if I could still hear it, even on dry land.

I didn’t dare tell them the truth, the eerie truth that the sea had a pulse, that it had called to me and I had answered. But I still feel it sometimes, like an old memory pulsing beneath my skin, whenever I’m near the water. That thrum. That heartbeat of the deep. It’s not just the ocean’s—it’s mine too.

Every now and then, I end up leaning on the railing of the fishing boat, staring out at the vastness of the ocean, trying to see if I can find you. The one responsible for that heartbeat, for that deep, eternal rhythm that still echoes in my bones. What was out there? What was causing it? But every time I search, I find nothing—just the endless stretch of water, the dark, rolling waves. There’s never anything visible, not like I expected. No creatures rising from the deep, no signs of some hidden force. Just the sound of the sea, the wind, the calls of seagulls, and the soft lapping of water against the hull.

I was a child when I was thrown in, far too young to understand what had happened, far too small to comprehend the vastness of the ocean around me. I can still hear the voices of the crew shouting my name, panic and urgency in their tones, but I couldn’t reach them. I remember the cold of the water as it closed over me, the pull of the current, the weight of the deep. I remember everything… until I didn’t.

And now, every time I look out over the water, I wonder if that moment will return, if the ocean will call to me again. The pulse, the heartbeat, it’s still there, somewhere in the depths. But I can never find it. I can never reach it.

So I close my eyes instead. I let the breeze slip through my dark black hair, feeling the soft tug of it as it brushes against my face. The warmth of the sun on my skin. I take a deep breath and just listen. The sound of the waves, the distant calls of the seagulls, the steady hum of the boat as it cuts through the water. And for a moment, it’s like I can almost hear that heartbeat again—faint, distant, but steady. I let it fill the space around me, not searching for it anymore, just listening. Letting it be.