well I choose to put ads on my lj cause I wanted more, I dont think its so bad, it's off to the side and all.
Here is something I started writing when i should have been writing my paper.
I want to lie at the bottom of the sea.
Just the sea and me.
I want to lie in its soft grounds looking up through the waves, looking up at the light. I want to know that I am under everything so that should I need to look, it is there above me. I have no longings, no needs or wants; there is nothing here
but the sea and me.
I can only look up from where I lay to all the wondrous things above me, cutting through the water, sifting through the light. I dream that some times I am with them, flying through the currents, washing in the sun. I dream of dreams never dreamt, I feel of feelings never felt, I kiss lips I never would have kissed. But when I wake it flitters away like twilight, this is the proof these things are not meant to be mine. I am content with this; I am at the bottom of the sea,
just the sea and me.
Although there is joy and love there is equally pain and suffering. I am not strong enough to withhold any of these things that is why I have sunk now to the very bottom. I am filled with nothingness; I know nothing of anything or anyone, just what I see above me, from the bottom of the sea.
Just the sea and me.
The nothingness has anchored me here and all those things that are empty of it float. They float above me, into the light, into the stars. I wonder what is up there? I wonder what it is like. Then I remember I am here, it is not for me.
Just the sea and me.
I think I would like to feel happy, to smile, even to cry. To feel hot tears roll down my cheek. They would be mine. I remember I am here I have nothing.
Just the sea and me.
Here for a time and a time my life was always the same, until a visitor came.
“I have lost something,” They claimed. “Do you know where I might find it?”
“There is nothing here.”
“But you are here.”
“I am nothing.”
“The nothing can’t talk.”
“I am filled with it.”
“How can you be filled of something that isn’t there?”
“I am nothing.” They looked around me, I looked back, how could they have come so far to the bottom and not be filled of the nothing?
“Have you seen it?”
“What?”
“My something, I’ve lost it.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t know that’s why it’s lost.”
“You’ve lost nothing then.”
“Oh...well then…maybe it’s you.”
“Me?”
“Yes the nothing, you’re what I’ve lost!”
“There is nothing here, I cannot be lost if I am nothing, it is only the sea and me.”
“But I can see in you, and there’s something there, something that made me think I had lost something, and needed to find it. So you must be lost and not nothing and if you’re something you must be what I’ve lost.”
I couldn’t understand how this came to be; I knew my place was to lie here at the bottom, always looking up, never reaching out. For once I emptied the nothing and floated up, I would never be content to sink back to the bottom, my heart would no longer bear the strain of sinking and floating, sinking and floating. So I emptied it. All of it out, so I would sink, far out of reach of anyone or anything. Far from pain, joy, and even thought. Yet here is someone who came aimlessly to me, and found me, it is no longer
the sea and me.
They can see in me and found that I was not all filled of nothing, but there was something. Behind all the black, beyond all the void, they saw the something still left, and would not rest with out it. You can never truly hide; some one will always reach far and wide to grasp at what you thought you never had. And pull it out for you to see.