whispers from the waves

recently, i've been sitting on the beach. there are many late nights where i drive to the same beach and park in the same spot and look at the same stars. and i do a lot of thinking. about the same thing. i guess all i've really been doing lately is thinking. it's a victimless crime. i suppose other than me. anyways, so i was sitting on the beach and it was midnight and the sand was wet and there was fog on the drive over but none on the beach. the sky was dark and dense, except for the speckles of stars. the water was clear and dormant, except for the ripples of moonlight reflected. i have to admit, the atmosphere itself was almost harrowing. except that it wasn't. it was the most beautiful thing. and it was beautiful because it was simple. and it was telling. and it was refreshing and reflective. but it was just a beach. and it was just the night time. so i suppose i shouldn't make a big deal out of things like that. but it's what i do best!

sometimes i feel a little stuck in my surroundings, like the things around me are just the way they are and there is nothing i can do to change them. and they will be that way forever. this is just not true. i talk about changing all of the time. i never shut up about change. but i feel like i forget that other people are also changing. and, in turn, the surroundings change. sometimes all i can do is think about myself. am i making any sense????????

side note i've been reading "letters to milena" by kafka and i think i might go insane. also "bluets" by maggie nelson. subtle recs.

i keep writing letters i never send. literally and figuratively. like, sure yes, it is a metaphor for all the mental work i do imagining and obsessing about a potential situation and then never taking action to see the situation play out, but also it's literally true. i have notebooks full of papers among papers addressed to people that i literally just never give them. last year i carried around letters in my backpack and just never gave them to the people they were meant for. i think i am a sentimental person. maybe i should grow up and use my words. maybe i'll just hole up and spend my nights on the beach and you'll never hear from me again. that would be drab. let's hope not. maybe it's alright that i might never send the letters. maybe i will. in the meantime, here's a poem. see you in the next one.

midnight at the shore

the waves tell me about you

and the moonlight on the water

reflects a dance only you know

the picture is painted

i know it now

the stars in the sky look down on us

we have never known happiness

we never will

but you know the dance

and i hear the waves

and somehow that is enough

-epic awesome cool girl who hears the waves and is waiting for you to dance