Rising Tide

Waves crashed against the sand in mesmerizing rhythm. His eyes fixed downward, solely focused on the galaxy of miniscule and ancient pebbles between his legs. "How long had it taken for them to assume these tiny forms? How incredibly far had they travelled over the eons?" he wondered through a worn and defeated inner monologue.

Foaming surf and screeching gulls intermittently gave way to the sound of only the subtle breeze as if nature's respite between breathes. He looked up slowly, the cool azure sea and luminescent sunrays shining down upon it were now duller than he could ever remember. As if a dirty filter had been placed over his entire life-perspective. There was no seeing around the all-encompassing dreariness.

As a child on this beach (or any other for that matter) he had recollected the brightness and clarity of the ocean, the feel of wind and spray dancing, causing hairs to stand on-end, and the soft yet powerful noises ringing true in his ears as a celestial orchestra of cosmic wonder and innocent delight.

Things were different now. The relentless and repetitive natural forces had become overwhelming and somewhat maddening. Light reflecting off of every perceivable surface was blinding and the once calming noises frustrated to no end. "It won't stop" he thought. “It will never stop, and I will forever be steamrolled by the flow of life. Ever beaten, tossed, and rolled by the undying surf until my lifeless body is smashed on the reefs and my failure of an existence is recycled to feed the creatures of the deep. At least then I will have fulfilled a purpose. ANY purpose."

Like a horrible movie repeating itself inside his head, he replayed over and over the events of his life that had led him to this very place and moment. An unfortunate childhood, filled with neglect and disappointment had swiftly led to teenage years brimming with resentment, loneliness, and pain.

As a result, adult relationships both personal and professional had eminently self-detonated as he had grown to expect without fail. Lashing out inadvertantly like a venomous baby cobra. Vices soon followed, in order to numb the hollowness of inadequacy and mask the aversion to social engagement and closeness of any kind.

In his mind’s eye he violently clawed for the moments of happiness he knew that he had experienced at some point or anther but they were like dandelions floating gently on the Summer breeze, teasing and giving false hope as he had become so accustomed to. When he had finally grasped one and clutched it close for salvation, he slowly opened his hand to reveal that it lay crushed and dead in his palm.

Desperately attempting to “stay positive” and maintain an “attitude of gratitude” he recounted his numerous blessings. “Things could be so much worse” he thought. “I have my health and the ability to think freely, not to mention I was born by sheer fortune into one of the greatest and easiest times and locations that the planet has ever known. And the beauty!..” he tried to convince himself. “Fake it ‘til you make it” he internally repeated. “I know people struggle much more than I, but why is it made to look so Goddamn easy!” his face soured with these thoughts and the dark direction his consciousness constantly ventured.

“I have friends and family, but I am utterly alone.”

“I’ve known deep love and true interpersonal connection, yet I cannot maintain it.”

“I have nice things, but my bank account is well beyond empty.”

“People tell me I’m intelligent and have limitless potential, yet my prospects are nonexistent.”

His dismal list went on and on, feeding itself as a demonic snake devouring its own tail. Starving, yet simultaneously growing hungrier with each bitter mouthful. Losing hope, as was the now deeply engrained and never-ending ritual, he began to find solace in music that had once made him feel something, even if it was not joy. Where is my Mind by The Pixies began to play melodically in his head.

He closed his eyes but immediately reopened them in order to escape the barrage of torturous images. Everything was monochrome now. Color was just a notion, all sounds where razor-sharp and muffled at the same time. The ocean air was cold and stinging while the only smells where those of rotting seaweed and bitter salt.

Standing suddenly but slowly, his knees cracked and muscles creaked. He instinctively looked and reached down to brush the sand stuck to his clothes but had already pondered what the point was and decided not to bother. His body was sore from sitting but he didn’t care. He was used to pain and in a perverse way found it somewhat comforting, if only out of pure conditioning and familiarity.

Without haste, he took unmotivated steps toward the ever-lapping surf. Pelicans were gliding in unison along the water’s surface just beyond the breaking waves and for an instant, he wished for nothing more than the ability to fly. Fly high above the chaos and expectations. To leave everything he had ever known and embrace the freedom to try again completely anew. “But that’s impossible” he thought. “Besides, I’d probably just screw it all up again anyways.”

Looking behind him, he lackadaisically scanned the rugged coastline. First up the beach, then turning to look down the other direction. “It really is beautiful” he admittedly thought to himself. “Funny how such intense pain and misfortune can occur in the midst of such intense majesty and natural wonder.”

“No matter” he thought. “What’s the difference? If the world were ugly, at least we wouldn’t expect anything. Comparison and expectation have robbed me of a life worth living. I’ll never be as successful as my neighbor. I’ll never be able to return the love that I’ve been given. For these reasons, I will do my part in bettering the world and its’ humanity."

At the water’s edge, cold salt water lazily crept up and caressed his feet. The temperature was bitter cold but he did not recognize the dull sensation. Taking a few more steps, he waded further until his knees were submerged. Without hesitation, he moved further still. Clothes soaking wet and pushing through the first breaking wave, he continued.