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Freedom

It’s the most freeing sensation in the world, standing on the deck of that boat, wind in your hair, sucking in the briny mist as you rock along with the landscape of the ocean, flinging you this way and that, you gripping tight the guardrails, shifting between your sea legs that operate subconsciously now, instinctually, as this is where you should be, atop a rolling carpet of blue that stretches to the horizon. Oh, Doctor, it’s where everything makes sense, where the existence of the world, the impossibility of self, aren’t these burdens to drag along or mountains to summit, but a respite, a refuge, a place where god is possible, where murkiness becomes translucent, the breath in your lungs a buoy rather than a thing to expel, a floating Eden sans garden, where serendipity is normal, expected even. Where violence is common too, it’s true, there are sudden crashing walls of water, terrifying storms, shearing the sea into vicious hills and valleys without so much as a blink, trying your will to keep on, yet a locale that makes you want it all, where while your insignificance is a lesson to learn, it is not the most important thing, which is the moment, the very moment you’re alive right then, for better or worse, that’s the essence, the bliss of being alive without the onus of comprehending it, which you cannot find on land. Just look at us, Doctor, swaddled in a world of fractured personalities, mistrust and fear and paranoia treated like luggage, checked in and out, this small universe we create for ourselves, each other, fencing out any foreign input, any agitations, perpetually gazing inward but never seeing anything, actualizing, reaching for the significance, because it’s not here, can’t be here, could only exist amongst trillions of gallons of salt water, a tidal epiphany. It’s where I belong, an oasis of crowded moisture where time stops, a home within the abyss, unshackled from the land, back into the eddies, that moment, that hardening of skin as the salt rankles your pores, the sun rising or setting, refracting its light over the felicitous surf, lapping at or assaulting the hull, hugging you back, it’s that moment, that now, and it’s all I want, Doctor, that escape, that freedom to exist in the present. I just want you to set me free.

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