By Audrey Lambert, TIWP Student
I want to love someone the way I love the ocean. The way it excites me, the great big expanse of it all. The way it terrifies me with all its depths in darkness, all it’s undiscovered uncertainty. The way it engulfs me and stings my eyes and burns the insides of my throat. I want to love someone with the intensity of the ocean. With its destructive, swirling, frothing commitment. Its mesmerizing mystery and dizzying current. With the sparkle that dances upon the little echoes that eventually crash as massive waves.
I want someone to make me feel like my head’s underwater, like when water fills your ears and all you can hear splashes and your own movement. I want someone to be able to make everything disappear around me the way the ocean can. When you’re underwater and you’re floating and your eyes are closed to block out all the salt and your ears are clogged and all you can taste is a little bit of salt water.
I want that feeling of there being one thing. One person that has your entire attention and you feel like you’re surrounded by them. I want that sensory deprivation of everything but that sensory overload of all those empty spaces being eclipsed by just one. One person. I want that feeling, that feeling of it just being you and them and everything else sinks into the depths and they’re the only thing on the surface.
I want that clarity, that simplicity that occurs when you’re feeling so many conflicting complicated emotions and there’s so much chaos and confusion until they all combine into one, pure, tangible thought, ‘I’m in love with them.’ Love. It’s just love. And it washes away all those other things, erodes away all chaos and confusion and it’s just one emotion: love. And it’s powerful and deep but simple and striking. Like the ocean.