H20 (In)Tolerant
The gnawing feeling that comes only
When
Plagued
With this
Much weight.
This much weight
The principles of physics don’t apply here.
Tell me, we’re made up mostly of water
A composition of seemingly fluid, peaceful, calm substance
That can turn, when provoked, into a master of transformation
Why is it, why is that when I look at the sea, when I look at a glass of water, when I stare into a broad horizon and over the ocean, why is it that I feel at peace? Why is it when I speak to others about the sea, they see something serene, silence, something calming, yet most of all, beautiful. Boundless beauty. Why is this the first thing, the first thought of water? Cleansing, calm, beautiful, renewing?
When I think, when I think of the composition
When I think of the composites, of every single small undeveloped shot I have of my interiors,
When I think of that of which I am composed of
I cannot see this calm, serene, beauty. I cannot find the calm, I cannot find the beauty, I cannot find the silence.
I CAN NEVER FIND THE SILENCE.
This weight, this water, this turbulent turmoil unfolding inside me is not the calm ocean. It is not the secret spaces of silence and time between waves. It is the crash.
It is all about the crash.
I am composed of 75% crash. That is my water, that is my ocean, that is my makeup.
I CAN NEVER FIND THE SOLACE IN THE SILENCE OF MY SEA.
I find more promise in finding myself in the moment where
I cannot hold on
I cannot keep my composure
I cannot fight this battle against the water
I cannot wage a winning war against that which I am composed of
It flows through me
It breathes and drags pebbles and rocks and scrapes every inch of my bones
Coursing through, igniting, driving
I CANNOT PUT A STOP TO THIS.
So I stop, and I try, and I try, and I try
To hold on while I wait to find an anchor to hold me down
I am no contender for the sea.
And I watch in your eyes, and I see it coursing through you too
And its in your veins, connecting you to every object you touch
Its in the way you feel restless, it drives you, it commands you
Surrender,
I want to tell you to surrender
You should know I feel it to
And sometimes I grab a hold,
but everytime, I lose control.
I cannot fight this battle any more than you can.
This is your composition.
You, as I, are made up of storms, of turmoil
Of the moment of impact,
The collision
The fast forward,
The inability to ever
Ever
Ever
Slow down
We can never slow down.
We are made up of the moment those waves crash
We are made up of something bigger, something that maybe
We can never hold in two hands
We are the weakness that washes up to shore
Yet we are always pulled back.
Sinking in the depths,
We are driven, controlled, by this 75%
We are
The
Loss
Of
Consciousness
Through
The
Need
To
Create.
Sometimes, all we can do is give in to the gnawing feeling, and hope, pray, that we can survive the storm.
