When life gets so frustrating you realize you’re walking around clenching your fists for parts of the day, nothing quite washes it away like a day with the ocean.
When I hear the crashing of it’s waves I can feel myself pounding the sand.
The ocean is so patient. It slowly builds. Pushing itself as far as it can go onto the shore, stretching every last drop, just to rescind again.
There’s so much life in it’s hands. Swimming, breathing, procreating, shitting, having lunch. It’s an entire system of things we couldn’t possibly imagine. The tiniest of creatures. The most vulnerable of species. And yet it’s mostly indestructible and unknown.
I would say I want to be like the ocean when I grow up but it’s so bipolar. Some days it’s calm. Some days it’s muggy. Some days it rages.
I’ll never know what it’s like to have grown up on the beach, but I envy those that did. Beach towns feel like a refuge to me.
There’s something for everyone.
You can wear what you want.
Sometimes there are dinosaurs.
Sometimes there is really good beer.
And a lot of the time, there’s love.
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