I am a crashing wave going back and forth.
Every time I hit the shore, I feel like this is it.
Like there and then I will hit the hard sand and dissipate.
I will splatter all over and land everywhere.
With every piece of me falling in between cracks and holes in the very sand I hit.
I am a crashing wave tossing and turning.
Seems to me no one understands
That hitting tiny rocks and pebbles could be painfully satisfying.
No, not like a mad physical sadistic drive.
Rather, melancholically.
Pain is temporary, with the control of lasting-time.
You are a ripple on a water body, you see the cove.
Sooner or later, you know what's coming next.
You anticipate, you wait.
It's not enough and you are caught in heavy suspense.
High tension-ed, gaining speed, losing control.
Maybe you've hit the dry compacted sand before.
Maybe you've already known what it feels like to lose control.
Maybe you've already left your marks.
Yet here you are again and suddenly it's like your first time.
It's inevitable because it could possibly
Be the only way to move on. (You've never known another)
So you just want to get it over and done with.
Suddenly, you wish for it to hit you faster.
When it does, it isn't as painful as before.
No, not compared to your imaginations during suspense.
It becomes painfully gratifying?
Maybe.
I am a crashing wave.
In many sense, I know what's coming next.
In some ways, it is a way of life.
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