Destroy my ocean.

Sometimes, when it's quiet, and every sound stops echoing in your brain, almost until there is a soft static, you can hear yourself create an ocean. The rolling waves of breath in and out and in and out. You can close your eyes and see the blues and greens and greys and whites. The foam gathering on the sound of you lungs. Sand mingling in your skin. Delicate and fragile rocks filling every bottomless pit. And the pounding in your ears, the sound of pumping blood, doesn't fit. It isn't part of the ocean. Because of it, we aren't the waves or the sand but with out it, there is no breath and there is no skin and there is no mind being feed just like Ocean who changes her mind whenever she needs to and is fed by the life breathing within her. She does not depend on anything that does not belong in her. Not like us. So, we destroy her. Only because we can not be her. Because we can not depend on ourselves alone. We depend on a breakable, fragile, pitiful organ. We hate the ocean, because it does not.