I've always been strangely infatuated with the sea. Whenever I’m near it, I experience such a profound feeling of calmness and peace. I love the mysterious aura it has. I guess I love it so much because it’s existence is an ineffable concept to me; it’s enormous mass baffles me. If I were to ever commit suicide (I don’t plan to but I do dwell on the “what ifs” sometimes) I would most likely do it by drowning. That inclination I feel towards the sea would overcome me and I wouldn’t be able to resist it’s seductive lull. If I had to end it all, the most fulfilling way would be to be enveloped by the thing I love most.
I recently learned that the ocean symbolizes the soul in literature. Why couldn’t I discern that before? It makes sense though. Whenever I’m by the seaside, I feel more in touch with my emotions and self. I wish I had enough time to spend days at the beach just reading and writing and dreaming. Living by the coast in California, beach culture is incredibly prominent. I don’t care for the bleach blonde surfers at all and the casual fashion disgusts me. I don’t like swimming because I don’t think it’s fun to prance around in my swimsuit in a public place. But as I took pictures of Joy while standing in the waves clad in only a dress, it was such a magnificent experience. It was one of those moments where I felt alive and more aware of my body. Those fleeting moments are those that stay with me forever. With everything going on in my life, I sometimes become apathetic and indifferent and so that’s why it’s so thrilling to wad into the ocean while garbed in everyday clothing.
I could feel the freezing water splashing around my waist and the slight breeze against my cheek. I heard music in my head. I heard the sound of distant violins and a melancholic piano piece. I heard the seagulls cry and the waves lap against the short. I felt the sand suction my feet. I felt numb from the cold but alive with spirit and adventure. I felt all of this and was still able to laugh at the ridiculousness of the entire situation. As Joy complained about having to lie in the freezing cold water, my lungs vibrated with fits of mirth. It was such a beautiful day, probably one of the most beautiful days of my short life.
These pictures are not of me. They're of my friend Joy. People still think she's me and it's rather irritating considering I've made it a point that it's not me.