I often wonder who was the first one to suggest to go in the beach during summer?
Do people go because it is refreshing? It cools down the summer heat? They like the calmness of the sea, with its soft waves and the crystal reflection of the sun? Or maybe just to go into a crowded party with lots of music and alcohol and try to forget all the sad moments for a while under the blasting sound of hip-hop?
I was never fond of it.
Summer to me is more like taking a hike into the highest mountain and drink the freshest water of the pouring fountain. Summer to me means to sweat all your troubles by exhausting yourself in a place where the human foot has not yet been.
Why do people like getting burnt into the glazing sun and then suffer from skin diseases and infections that come along? It does not even make any sense. But maybe they strip down just to show their body, to attract the superficial humans who chase the trends.
If it were for me, I would go in the winter time, perhaps in December where the winter has just started. The sun is covered by the angry clouds and the wind howls into your ears. “War is about to happen” it whispers.
The sea is no where into being calm but it rages in fury; anger bottled up for so long, it needs somewhere to release. I fancy the sand that blinds my vision and enters my footwear begging to tag along.
But mostly I love the tranquility of the raging water who pounds itself into the shore so furiously only to retreat again; and then out of sudden it hits it again and again and again. It erodes the one holding it. It directs its anger into the innocent sand who has done no wrong to it.
And it reminds me of people; they tend to leash upon the one who is inferior to himself not the one superior for he is a coward.
And there are fools who think they can tame the beast, including myself, that actually take a jump into the unknown wanting to discover the one with many scars but many jewels hidden deep inside. I want to be the one to comfort the sad and lonely sea who is so troubled from the loneliness. I want to console her from the depression in her darkest days not only when she is beautiful during the summer nights. I want to be with her during the days she feels worthless and drowns into the darkest pits of uncertainty.
But it is not that simple. I can’t persuade her strong enough while showing her, her inner beauty that many thrive to see but are scared to. No, she thinks that she is not special enough to be with unless she hides her true nature and decides to be a trend follower. She is not convinced strongly enough but thinks that being what others want her to be is the only way to be loved. She thinks I am lying and that I don’t love her but oh how my heart leaks when she whispers these awful words.
I feel a hollowness in my chest when I see someone so beautifully flawless feel so timid and unloved. I wonder about those people who come during summer only to litter and trash her. Those who ruin and leave their marks on her with those dirty feet. I wonder about those who take pictures of themselves with their toned body but don’t realise that the only thing beautiful about that photo is the reflection of the sunset on the crystal surface of the sea. I wonder about those people who name themselves sea-lover but do not, even once, visit her when she is the most loneliest. ‘She is too vile and troubled. It’s too cold to go and visit her’. Isn’t it sad? That people are only reminded of you only in your happiest times? They only want to take advantage but once it’s over the only thing they leave behind is debris and waste. Pathetic!
But it isn’t over yet, another one joins the party. Just like a chain of hierarchy; the earth, the sea and the sky.
Thunders and lighting bolts clash, angering our devastated sea even more. She is being scolded in a time where she wants to be left alone.
It thunders the sky with terror, merciless; hitting the water and electrifying with even the slightest doubt for she is inferior to the almighty sky. And she lets him, for she she has convinced herself that it is entirely her fault for not being beautiful enough.
He shouts in the pouring rain; the sound deafens me. It’s strong enough to turn everything up side down.
In that eerie moment everything stops and I listen as it softens the tone. It is not hate but something righteously purifying. He, too, is mad at her. He is mad at the sea for letting others get to her. “Even if no one wants you, I am the only things you need.” the love pouring from him came in the form of sweet drizzle, washing away every negative source. He was crying
And I was stunned of a love so strong yet so platonic that I let myself free of everything. I wanted to taste this form of nothing else but extraordinary. During the fall, the sea smiled; but it was me who was angry right now. Why can’t I have that type of love?
‘Deep inside you’ll find one of my precious pearls. He is your antinomy dear. He came from up there to be reminded that sometimes you need to be lost in the deepest route to find the one you’ve been waiting for.
You see water and air are nothing but trouble. A match made in hell. They are always in parallel, no time to meet ever again but somehow if you gaze from afar you’ll see the horizon. You will see that even though that is an illusion our hearts touch together to form something out of this world. Treasure it!”