I met him out at sea. He was adrift, and I had a boat that I eagerly wanted to share for I had, quite mysteriously and inconveniently, forgotten how to steer and how I had gotten that far out upon the open water all by myself. His relief at the sight of me made me feverishly curious about him. And although the way he had eagerly approached upon noticing me had flattered and excited me then, I realized later that he wasn’t so much attracted to me as he was to the boat in my possession. Once I helped him aboard, he quickly took control - not even stopping long enough to dry himself off... or learn my name - and as I watched him, I began remembering.
I began to awaken from my seabound amnesia. I had fallen in love with waves that had appeared to me as a woman. As to how I acquired the boat, she inspired an urgency within me to create, to build, to manifest. The details remain fuzzy, but I so clearly remember the sight of my bloodied, splintered hands - surely the evidence of my personal labor. I had built for her a boat made of wood, cloth and innocence. I recall the backs of my friends, the men who helped me to build the purgatory-bound vessel as I yelled my thanks through heaving but contented breaths and they hung their heads, I thought in jealousy, but more likely pity. Thinking back, perhaps she was a siren - luring me into her current, waiting to drown me. Everyone watching from the shore had known it but me. It had been a beautiful day to sail, and the wind seemed to be on my side until... I was no longer in her good favor. Although... she didn’t care enough to kill me, she just left me out in open water and took all of the movement of the ocean with her. I had watched it happen - the moment she left, the moment her eyes turned cold along with the waters she commanded, the moment I saw her decide she was done with me. I don’t know how long I waited there, somehow unable to think or feel or do. My consciousness had been put on pause as an act of self-preservation. At least I had a boat.
He came out of nowhere. Or... my awareness of his presence did. Once I saw him, I couldn’t take my eyes off him. He was certainly beautiful to look at, but there was something more to him than that. There was something peculiar about him and I found that intriguing, and there began a growing hunger to know all that I could about him and what he was doing in the water. We stayed in the boat and spoke for an eternity that ended far too soon. I wanted him all to myself, and that, I suppose, made him long to be back in the water. I was selfish, but sadly couldn’t do anything about it. I couldn’t convince myself not to want him so desperately. That was something I learned from the woman of the waves - every story ends, everything hurts, everyone leaves. I was terrified of being alone again, of having my consciousness stripped from me after just having reclaimed it. I wondered whether it would feel the same - whether it would feel like death again.
I spoke to him as gently as I could, yet my voice still trembled with my own fear. I tried to paw at his past in an attempt to make sense of him, in an attempt to justify his treatment of me with his previous pains. I begged for transparency from him, but that all too familiar lack of care meant that he saw no benefit in being honest with me. There is nothing that he wanted from me so there was no reason, in his mind, for him to treat me with any sort of common decency or dignity. Someone had burned him once, so he thought it best to drown me because there was no way he would ever trust air again. The last time he had, it fed her fire and his world went up in flames. Hence his affinity for water, the only place he was safe from her and the only place where he felt he had control. The more I tried to hold on, the more he pulled away from me. We were locked in a cruel tug of war until finally, we fell overboard. We were tossed back and forth, the sea had found itself again. I realized that the woman of the waves hadn’t been the only determinant of the water’s movements - it was my brokenness as much as her callousness that had caused the eerie calm for I was of the water just as she was… just as he was.
While I was thrashed about beneath the surface of the angry, stormborn waves, he appeared unphased. He eased through the chaos with such grace that I thought myself weak and strange for struggling to do more than just swallow sharp mouthfuls of seawater made saltier by my own shameful amount of tears. I thought myself on the verge of demise, so I thought it best to relinquish my struggle - I decided I’d much rather spend my final moments in attempted-peace than in peril. I succumbed to the darkness as he drifted away from me, undoubtedly off to find another boat he’d be welcomed to steer towards jagged rocks of nonclosure.
When I awoke he was nowhere to be seen. The boat I’d built no doubt sinking ever further into the ocean depths. How fitting it was that the vessel of my over-giving and tainted pursuit of love had finally met its end as he had brought me to mine. I heard the faint and gentle crashing of waves lapping against the shore as I lifted my hand to shield my tired eyes from the scorching sun that had come to envelope me. I sat up suddenly, sputtering water that had been forcibly housed in my lungs. My throat burned from the salt that I heaved in exchange for air. It all seemed like a terrible dream at that point. It very well could have been if it hadn’t been for the physical effects of the sea and sun. I was relieved to be done with him. Or at least that is what I muttered to myself as I rocked back and forth upon the burning sands of harsh reality as I openly wept for him and for the version of myself that had loved him, the version of myself lost to the sea… endlessly calling out to be found again by the water boy.
I began to awaken from my seabound amnesia. I had fallen in love with waves that had appeared to me as a woman. As to how I acquired the boat, she inspired an urgency within me to create, to build, to manifest. The details remain fuzzy, but I so clearly remember the sight of my bloodied, splintered hands - surely the evidence of my personal labor. I had built for her a boat made of wood, cloth and innocence. I recall the backs of my friends, the men who helped me to build the purgatory-bound vessel as I yelled my thanks through heaving but contented breaths and they hung their heads, I thought in jealousy, but more likely pity. Thinking back, perhaps she was a siren - luring me into her current, waiting to drown me. Everyone watching from the shore had known it but me. It had been a beautiful day to sail, and the wind seemed to be on my side until... I was no longer in her good favor. Although... she didn’t care enough to kill me, she just left me out in open water and took all of the movement of the ocean with her. I had watched it happen - the moment she left, the moment her eyes turned cold along with the waters she commanded, the moment I saw her decide she was done with me. I don’t know how long I waited there, somehow unable to think or feel or do. My consciousness had been put on pause as an act of self-preservation. At least I had a boat.
He came out of nowhere. Or... my awareness of his presence did. Once I saw him, I couldn’t take my eyes off him. He was certainly beautiful to look at, but there was something more to him than that. There was something peculiar about him and I found that intriguing, and there began a growing hunger to know all that I could about him and what he was doing in the water. We stayed in the boat and spoke for an eternity that ended far too soon. I wanted him all to myself, and that, I suppose, made him long to be back in the water. I was selfish, but sadly couldn’t do anything about it. I couldn’t convince myself not to want him so desperately. That was something I learned from the woman of the waves - every story ends, everything hurts, everyone leaves. I was terrified of being alone again, of having my consciousness stripped from me after just having reclaimed it. I wondered whether it would feel the same - whether it would feel like death again.
I spoke to him as gently as I could, yet my voice still trembled with my own fear. I tried to paw at his past in an attempt to make sense of him, in an attempt to justify his treatment of me with his previous pains. I begged for transparency from him, but that all too familiar lack of care meant that he saw no benefit in being honest with me. There is nothing that he wanted from me so there was no reason, in his mind, for him to treat me with any sort of common decency or dignity. Someone had burned him once, so he thought it best to drown me because there was no way he would ever trust air again. The last time he had, it fed her fire and his world went up in flames. Hence his affinity for water, the only place he was safe from her and the only place where he felt he had control. The more I tried to hold on, the more he pulled away from me. We were locked in a cruel tug of war until finally, we fell overboard. We were tossed back and forth, the sea had found itself again. I realized that the woman of the waves hadn’t been the only determinant of the water’s movements - it was my brokenness as much as her callousness that had caused the eerie calm for I was of the water just as she was… just as he was.
While I was thrashed about beneath the surface of the angry, stormborn waves, he appeared unphased. He eased through the chaos with such grace that I thought myself weak and strange for struggling to do more than just swallow sharp mouthfuls of seawater made saltier by my own shameful amount of tears. I thought myself on the verge of demise, so I thought it best to relinquish my struggle - I decided I’d much rather spend my final moments in attempted-peace than in peril. I succumbed to the darkness as he drifted away from me, undoubtedly off to find another boat he’d be welcomed to steer towards jagged rocks of nonclosure.
When I awoke he was nowhere to be seen. The boat I’d built no doubt sinking ever further into the ocean depths. How fitting it was that the vessel of my over-giving and tainted pursuit of love had finally met its end as he had brought me to mine. I heard the faint and gentle crashing of waves lapping against the shore as I lifted my hand to shield my tired eyes from the scorching sun that had come to envelope me. I sat up suddenly, sputtering water that had been forcibly housed in my lungs. My throat burned from the salt that I heaved in exchange for air. It all seemed like a terrible dream at that point. It very well could have been if it hadn’t been for the physical effects of the sea and sun. I was relieved to be done with him. Or at least that is what I muttered to myself as I rocked back and forth upon the burning sands of harsh reality as I openly wept for him and for the version of myself that had loved him, the version of myself lost to the sea… endlessly calling out to be found again by the water boy.
   | I wonder if you think you’re broken Your pain left unspoken But it’s still so visible That someone made you miserable And made you scared. Frightened of newness, Of openness. Horrified by me Or a version of me That could be like her, That could hurt you While she still haunts you. Do your memories of her Sit enshrined Upon the walls of your mind? Or do they lay as ashes Beside the fire she set in your subconscious Where you tried your utmost to let her go? You spent an age in front of the flames Relinquishing her name Trying to disguise the redness In your eyes And the smell of smoke and sadness Still clinging To your skin. Dear Water Boy, Tell me Did I do anything to you Other than terrify you? Might I offer My sincerest of apologies For having run Full-force into you. Would you believe me If I said I’d rather feel nothing. I’d rather be back where I started, Believing that I was no longer Capable of feeling this way. I’m drowning in your energy My rational mind Overthrown by what you mean to me. Water, What have you done to me? I could have sworn that you wanted me Until you didn’t. I couldn’t I still can’t Understand How I came to be washed up On the sand Chest heaving, Barely breathing… Yet, Thanking the universe That as much as I am Of water… I am air. |
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