lines in the sand

I stopped taking anti-depressants because I don't want my life to be the product of a pill and I guess I'm not depressed anymore which makes me wonder if I ever was, maybe I was just tired of fighting, dying wouldn't be so bad. But I guess I fooled everyone then and I can imagine how angry they were when I seemed fine, all that money for what, nothing. They made no difference anyway, I don't think they do for anyone, not unless you believe they do. I remember sitting there eating chinese food telling him I didn't want to go through my life wondering whether what I was feeling was real or just the medication, he said he was afraid I'd hurt myself, I admit that I am capable of it, I do it everyday. But kill myself, no, I don't want to die anymore, but sometimes I just don't want to live. I guess I'm just a coward, an old teacher of mine told me that suicide was the cowardly thing to do, it's strange how that works. I'm not exactly being brave, not killing myself, but I'm still not living, I'm still not honest, only with myself, and people on the internet, that is cowardly too.

I said I wanted to go to a place where no one knew me, I still do, I want to start new, somewhere I can feel free to become the person who I want to be. I don't want to worry about living with these people, I wonder now, if I was honest with them, if it would make any difference at all or if they would even believe me. It's hard when no one expects anything of you, you are forced to define your own values and too often you slip because there is no one to enforce them, no one to punish you. I suppose you build a stronger character this way, or just go off the deep end.

Everyone needs rules and boundries, but why, what is this compulsion that mankind has to draw lines in the sand, I suppose that is why I love the ocean, all the lines that people draw are washed away eventually. In the sea there is no difference between here and there, water is constantly changing, the same tide you step into today will be stepped in again at some far corner of the world, and you will never know. The ocean has a dangerous hold on me, it calls to me, I cannot describe the strange pull I feel when I am near the ocean, it has been more of a mother to me than the woman who gave birth to me and torments me to this day. When I was a child I could lie awake at night and feel the ocean rocking me, carrying me like a mother carries a child, rocking me to sleep. I haven't felt that in so long, until I went camping with renee this past week, oh I could have stayed forever. I may just as well have gone on my own, I think I would have enjoyed it more, just me and the characters I create, just me and the water. I can't explain the love I have for the ocean, I don't think I love anything more and I don't think I fear anything more. I learned to swim by being pulled down by the undertow of the waves and I've learned, the hard way, never to turn my back on the ocean. The ocean heals me and calms me like my mother never could. I've taken beating after beating from the sea but still, it can be so gentle. I feel like the sea, everchanging but still the surface seems to stay the same, always hiding it's secrets beneath the dark, cold waves. Gentle, like a mother, but a force to be respected and reckoned with, meek, until provoked and then, what rage. The ocean speaks to everyone, some just cannot hear.