Chapter I: Chained and Carved

A Love Letter to Blooming Point

Jennifer Alexander

Blooming Point beach doesn’t like to be seen by everyone. She hides herself behind sand dunes dressed up in tall green grass.
Like a lover, the ocean promises to reveal herself only to me.

I rest my weary bones in the sand and embrace the sound of tides.
I close my eyes for a moment, breathe in the salty air, and envision the waves carrying me far from shore.

I don’t have a death wish, but sometimes I long to disappear.

Even if only for a day.

The world is so loud and all-consuming, heavy on my being. But in the water, for once, I could feel weightless
and experience a form of stillness and silence within me that I am unable to find here on land.

Looking out into the water, I see nothing beyond the horizon. Yet, I like to imagine that there is somewhere safe cradled in the sea,
and that it’s only for me.

A place where there are no due dates or traffic lights or texts that I feel obligated to answer.

I am so tired of all the noise and movement in the everyday world.
Stress continues to take a toll on my tender mind and body, and time never stops moving forward as much as I keep begging. My morning alarm told me it doesn’t care if I feel rested or not, it must go off regardless.

I like to imagine myself away in the waves.
I’ll finally quiet the world around me, allowing myself to experience what it feels to be a human without distractions.
I don’t have a death wish, but wouldn’t it be nice to not worry about anything.

Dear ocean, take me away. I am your lady for the day.

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