The ocean keeps me human.

July 23rd, 2014, 12am

It was 14.4°C. The breeze was light.

So of course, I question everything when I’m standing in front of it.

I’m worried about a lot of things right now, the stress of starting a new job, of getting through school and graduating, of being able to balance seeing friends and seeing someone, of dealing with a difficult living situation and an even more difficult family. I doubt myself a lot, more than I used to. My insecurities overrun my rational thoughts and throw me into chaos more often than not.

The ocean is my safe place, because everything seems really stupid in the long run when I’m standing here. I have a lot of pent-up anger and frustration and very few outlets to work it all out.

I’m supposed to graduate and be able to work in my chosen field by next summer. I hope to keep this job until then because so far, I really like it and enjoy the work itself. I have a small circle of friends and I try my damnedest to make time for them, because I get lonely, I get unbearably lonely when I don’t get to see them for long periods of time. I’m in a relationship that isn’t much of a relationship anymore, but I still care, still feel deeply for this person, that the thought of losing them, of walking away from them, makes my chest burn, my insides twist and churn, makes my head hurt; it may be doing me more harm than good to stick around, but I’m still fighting because I don’t know how to give up. I’m a survivor and a fighter, and I don’t give up on people unless they give up on themselves. I don’t walk away like I should, because I know they can be better than they are now, and I want to be there for them since for some stupid reason, I still love them after all this.

But today, I didn’t go there for me. I went for a friend, because I wanted to support them and be there for them because they needed someone to do that. My friends are my family, because at the end of the day, my friends are the ones who never question me or doubt me, but still push me when I need it.

I’ve been in many types of relationships, some I’m proud of, very few that I’m not; but all of them gave me a different experience, and all of them taught me how to interact and deal with different kinds of people. It’s those memories that I refuse to really let go of, even if those people aren’t in my life anymore. Even if things were bad, there were still some bright moments that I keep close.

I want to keep going, keep fighting, keep surviving. Living in the past drags me down, even if I miss a lot of the people I knew back then (I miss them terribly, and think of them often, and wish they were still here). I have things to look forward to, plans in the making, an army of Jeeps to create, and a tiny house to build and spend the rest of my days in. I don’t want to look over my shoulder and fall back into the past, and ruin whatever future I could have.

Today, I walked into the sea, and let go of a few more memories.

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líadan rí

lara, massage therapist, bibliophile, gamer, nerd. midnightfires @ flickr.

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