My house was at the top of the hill and the beach was right there at its foot. I could see those huge rocks over there and I always promised myself I'd climb them and see if the air felt as misty as I thought it would, if the waves would soak me like I thought they would.
I got to hiking. The first one I ever climbed was great. The mist made my hair frizz and my feet touched the cold water. The next time I hiked up there I got to the second rock. I made out with someone there once. Had to pray the guilt away. There was a rock behind it, though. One that I couldn't see from my window back home. Fuck. It was bigger than me. Bigger than these other rocks. Smoother. Deeper into the ocean, yet hidden at the curve. From my window, it's tip blended with the others, but from here it was impressive. It had swag, yo. So perfect. So, when I'd feel like writing stories, or needed to be alone, I'd go sit on one of the sandy areas and look up at its glory. I'd never climb it. I'd never dare. I'd probably fall. I'd probably slip. I'd melt in the sun. I'd want to stay up there. No. It was too high for me, and that was just fine. It was enough to know it was there and to be allowed to sit there and stare with no interruptions. I went to visit this rock not long ago. I passed our old house and it was a lot smaller than I remembered. I climbed down the hill to the beach and it was a lot closer than I remembered. I got to the first rock and it was a lot shorter than I remembered. So was the second. And there it was. The other. It stood there as tall as I remembered. As smooth as I remembered. It was as fine, as elegant, as poised, confident, flirtatious, arrogant yet sweet, so unimpressed, yet so tempting, as special as I remembered. I swear it knows what I'm thinking. It knows. It looks down at me and makes these faces on purpose. And I didn't climb it again. And I won't climb it ever. Sometimes there are highs we will never reach and that's ok. That's why we write stories, and films, and songs. Some of us live life aiming high and getting what we want until we meet that rock and know we won't cheapen it. We'll just let it be. And it is. Right there. Its lashes giving shade to the sandy bottom and the world has never changed.
CIJS? I'm a creep. I'm a weirdo.
I got to hiking. The first one I ever climbed was great. The mist made my hair frizz and my feet touched the cold water. The next time I hiked up there I got to the second rock. I made out with someone there once. Had to pray the guilt away. There was a rock behind it, though. One that I couldn't see from my window back home. Fuck. It was bigger than me. Bigger than these other rocks. Smoother. Deeper into the ocean, yet hidden at the curve. From my window, it's tip blended with the others, but from here it was impressive. It had swag, yo. So perfect. So, when I'd feel like writing stories, or needed to be alone, I'd go sit on one of the sandy areas and look up at its glory. I'd never climb it. I'd never dare. I'd probably fall. I'd probably slip. I'd melt in the sun. I'd want to stay up there. No. It was too high for me, and that was just fine. It was enough to know it was there and to be allowed to sit there and stare with no interruptions. I went to visit this rock not long ago. I passed our old house and it was a lot smaller than I remembered. I climbed down the hill to the beach and it was a lot closer than I remembered. I got to the first rock and it was a lot shorter than I remembered. So was the second. And there it was. The other. It stood there as tall as I remembered. As smooth as I remembered. It was as fine, as elegant, as poised, confident, flirtatious, arrogant yet sweet, so unimpressed, yet so tempting, as special as I remembered. I swear it knows what I'm thinking. It knows. It looks down at me and makes these faces on purpose. And I didn't climb it again. And I won't climb it ever. Sometimes there are highs we will never reach and that's ok. That's why we write stories, and films, and songs. Some of us live life aiming high and getting what we want until we meet that rock and know we won't cheapen it. We'll just let it be. And it is. Right there. Its lashes giving shade to the sandy bottom and the world has never changed.
CIJS? I'm a creep. I'm a weirdo.
"Hipster is what happens when young hot people do what old ladies do." -Exian
