My View from the Mount

Waves

I feel the warm sand between my toes. I love it. I am comfortable, and this is where I want to be. But I can see other people leaving the warm sand, running into the cold, violent ocean. I don't understand why they would want to leave this comfort and head towards danger. But the longer I stand here, the more I understand. The comfort is calm, the comfort is peaceful. But it's boring. I want adventure. I slowly walk towards the water. The closer I get, the more confident I become and the faster I walk. Suddenly, it hits me. It's wonderful. It's cool and refreshing, and a new type of comfort. I go in farther; the deeper I go, the better it gets. I love it. The first wave comes. I smile and laugh as it hits. It stings a little, but that's okay; it's still amazing. The second wave comes. This one is bigger and stings more, but it's okay. It's not the ocean's fault. I knew this would happen — I chose to come in. The third wave comes. It's huge. I try to jump over it, but it's too big, too strong. It knocks me down; I can't get up. The waves seem to be coming faster, and they pummel me. I can't get up. I'm gasping for breath, and I accidentally inhale the salt water. I start choking, when suddenly, the ocean spits me up onto the warm, comfort of the sand. The sand cradles me as I catch my breath and stare loathingly out onto the water, wondering why I ever wanted to go into the ocean in the first place.

I am comfortable with you. You are warm and loving, everything I want. But you're predictable. You're not adventurous. Not dangerous, not spontaneous. I can see other women in different kinds of love — rough, daring, unsafe love. I don't understand why they would choose that over what you give me. You're everything I want. But the longer I am with you, the more bored I become. I crave adventure and danger. So slowly, I leave you. I begin to give my love to him. The closer I get with him, the more confident I become, the more he seems to welcome me. I throw myself into him. It's so much better. He loves me just as much as you do, but he's so much better. He's dangerous, adventurous, spontaneous — a new type of comfort. I go farther into his love, the more involved it gets, the better it gets. I love it, and I don't regret leaving you. But then the first fight comes. I know it's coming — I can feel it coming, and I can see it coming. I hits me. But then it's over. It hurts a little, but I get over it easily. We are still great, he is still amazing. The second fight comes. I can tell it's going to be a little bigger than the first, but it's not too bad. It hurts more than the first but I still get over it. But then the third fight comes. This time, it's going to be way bigger. I'm not sure if I am going to be able to handle it; I try to dodge it, but I can't. It hits me. It hurts way more this time. I can't deal with it anymore — I feel like I'm drowning. I can't get out, and I don't know what to do. He can't deal with me anymore. He throws me back, and you catch me. You cradle me, and I wonder why I ever wanted to be his. Why I ever left you to be with him.

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song -- "In for the Kill," La Roux