i’d be wrecked if someone stole this from me.
the right to stand alone at the ocean’s edge, where the wind slaps my face raw and the salt bites like it’s dragging up secrets i buried long ago.
no one can hand the ocean over like a trinket.
might as well try bottling a thunderstorm or pinning down raw, unbridled chaos.
the ocean isn’t a possession.
it’s a force that demands your presence. when i carve out time to be here, i remember.
i’m never really alone. solitude rides shotgun while the ocean watches me like an old friend who’s seen every scar, every story, and doesn’t flinch.
i can’t lock this feeling away in some drawer for later.
you don’t own a feeling.
you let it crash in, let it break open, let it fade away on its own terms.
the ocean never leaves me.
i’m always the one walking away.
but i always come back.
like a sacred shrine that demands a kneel, a space that reminds me there’s something bigger than the endless noise.
this isn’t a keepsake. it isn’t some soul-sucking job.
it isn’t a hollow friendship patched together by cheap words and time-killing distractions.
the ocean isn’t in my present.
i am in the presence of it.
i respect that.
happiness isn’t something you hunt down or buy off a shelf, no matter how many times i’ve traded a slice of my intuition or emptied my pockets trying to capture it.
it’s not some shell you steal from the sand, convinced it’s the missing piece that’ll finally make you whole if you wear it like an earring to prove you were here.
you don’t need to add your name to some visitors book or prove your freedom to strangers online.
when you do that, the moment belongs to them, not you.
freedom isn’t a possession.
it’s the pull of the law of attraction dragging you toward something real.
history repeats itself when our goals get washed away by a tide of fear and manipulated feelings.
the saturation of the powers that be, the mainstream media, and everyone too restless to sit still at the water’s edge for twenty minutes.
we’ve stripped so much from the ocean, tried to cage its wild spirit in our modern madness.
maybe it’s time to give something back.
maybe it’s time to stop clutching at fleeting illusions and let the tide flow as it damn well pleases. something you cannot hold onto, because it expands and contracts with the time you give it, not the time you waste staring into a mirror.
if you sit long enough by the ocean, it mirrors back the truth.
we are all just fools chasing ghosts.
and it’s in that raw, unfiltered moment you realise. this is it.
this is freedom.
nothing wrapped up, nothing sold, nothing owed. just the tide, the sky, the salt in your lungs, and the unshakable feeling that you belong to nothing but yourself.
no receipts.
no validation.
no bullshit.