As I look out over the ocean, I remember the time when we first crashed on the island, 3 years ago. I still remember that day very clearly.
I remember the waves crashing up onto the shore, the wind raging and the sun blocked out by dark, heavy rain clouds. I remember me and Josh's soaked clothes, and how all we wanted was to get back home as we huddled under a palm tree, trying to figure out where we were. Yes, I remember being a teenager, knowing I'll never see my parents again, and crying, the warm tears running down my cheeks as I sobbed, the rain mixing in with my tears and Joshua attempting to cheer me up. I was only 2 years younger than him, but he still has always been the type of person to be able to keep calm, no matter the situation.
Now, looking over the calm ocean, it all seems like a joke. How could something so content have been so angry at such a time? How could something so peaceful be so evil? Ever since that day, I have always looked at the ocean with a mixture of feelings, but regret, anger, and sadness aren't the only things that fill my mind. In fact, the thing that I feel is the strongest is respect. The ocean seems to always give off such a aura that no one can pin point exactly what it feels like, to be standing ankle-deep in water and staring at the horizon, the sand shifting in between your bare toes. For different people it's different things. The ocean is a on going mystery, a story that can go many different ways. Here is my version of what I saw that day, and how I felt. This is no work of fiction. This is just as real as your blood and sweat, as your hands and feet are. This is my story. And this is my life.
Now, looking over the calm ocean, it all seems like a joke. How could something so content have been so angry at such a time? How could something so peaceful be so evil? Ever since that day, I have always looked at the ocean with a mixture of feelings, but regret, anger, and sadness aren't the only things that fill my mind. In fact, the thing that I feel is the strongest is respect. The ocean seems to always give off such a aura that no one can pin point exactly what it feels like, to be standing ankle-deep in water and staring at the horizon, the sand shifting in between your bare toes. For different people it's different things. The ocean is a on going mystery, a story that can go many different ways. Here is my version of what I saw that day, and how I felt. This is no work of fiction. This is just as real as your blood and sweat, as your hands and feet are. This is my story. And this is my life.
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