I love the way the ocean loves. With passion. With devotion. With all of me. I love the way the ocean loves. Dramatically. Proudly. My love is noticeable. My love is loud. Ill crash into your life continuously, the way the ocean crashes into the rocks. Destructively. Ill care for you the way the ocean cares for the shore. Patiently. Gently. Continuously. To be loved by me is to be engrossed by it. Drenched by it. To be loved by the ocean is to be struck by it unexpectedly.
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The urge to say hi to the moon, to wave at airplanes as they fly by, do draw on my hands, to pick flowers, to laugh at my own jokes, to sing silly songs, to look at the stars, to read books and paint badly and draw doodles in the margins, to dance in the rain and cry in the shower, to eat an apple, to take long drives, to stand in the ocean, to sit alone, to smile at whatever makes me happy, to take pictures of everything, to make silly voices and talk at loud volumes, to take up space, to live and to breathe and to simply be.
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Every now and then something reminds me of him. Something sturs smthn within me and finds the him shaped space in my heart and brings up to the top and lets it all spill out. I don't want to miss him anymore. I'm sick of missing him.
But I think, it's not him that I'm missing, I think it's just the feeling, being loved, being cared for, having someone there.