Three hours past midnight, sand under my palms. There is nothing but silence. Every few seconds it’s broken by these waves striking the shore. As far as I can see it’s just us here, me and this Sea. The behemoth on one side and you, the little you, on the other. The vastness, the grandeur, it humbles you. My glass houses of self-importance and ego take a humble hit with every wave washing the shore. The sea is silent, yet it’s making noises. It can’t say a thing, yet I can hear stories it has in store. If you look, there is nothing but darkness to stare into. But if you feel, there is a mirror in front. I often come here to stare at myself in this mirror.
The mirror tells me things. Things that I know but I don’t know about. Things that I never paused to worry about. Things that I am afraid to hear but still wish to hear.
The Sea hides nothing, it’s blunt, full of lessons and regrets. It’s like reading your draft suicide notes from past and finding surprise mention of some people on it, how impending death makes one thank and appreciate people who usually seemed to have done no good to you. It teaches you how important are goodbyes.
A wave just gently touched my feet, it’s cold. I see all the friends that just became acquaintances because we stopped talking. Was it because of their diminishing utility to me or did I just change as a person, no longer feeling to have contact with them? How many of those friendships could be saved with a simple hello? And can’t even keep count of those that vanished into obscurity, into being strangers with familiar faces.
It’s embarrassing to look into the mirror and see all the times anger took over my wits. It’s funny as much as it is embarrassing. I try to reason, I try to find excuses but in the end I am defeated. There was never a reason that anger could be justified. There was always room for patience.
A cold breeze is whisking past me. I can see all the times I believed it was love, but in end it was just possession, keeping someone in your control like you owned them. And calling it love.
All the times when I could have stepped up and enjoyed the moment. The times when I wanted to be myself, but I was too worried thinking about what would people say. People I had never seen before, people that I was probably never going to see again. I couldn’t be myself. I played it safe, but was it worth?
All the times I faked a smile while I was broken from inside. When there was no hope left but I lied to myself, to give it one more day. And more lies. The times when Mom could see my eyes reeking of sorrow but I preferred to fib my way out of it.
Who am I? The mess that my room is or the meticulously kept little library in one corner of it. Am I the one who would travel for hours to get her the perfect gift or am I the one who walked away with no second thoughts. Am I the kid who used to find peace in his mother’s lap or the teen rebel who would argue till death for his liberty. Am I all of them? It never answers my questions, the Sea’s just a patient listener.
I seek answers to questions, I get ruffled when I can’t find them. Even with all its might and chaos in its gut, this sea calmly whispers. It tells me that the answers are lying within me, hidden behind the smokescreens of angst, fury, skepticism, and despondency. Far from people, from the pollution of light, from the comforts of dwelling, from the constantly on-the-move world we live in, I realise I have been running too fast. Too fast to look back, where my answers wait for me.
With the first rays of crimson sunlight seeping through the horizon, the mirror is getting blurry. Sun has interrupted our conversation. It’s bitter, all this reflection into myself, but so is beer. I long for more. I take the Sea’s leave and promise to meet on some other solitary night.