That's most of the reason I liked to find places where I could be alone. For some unknown reason, the need to be alone never really set in, at least not in a compulsive way, until night time. During the day there was always some way to occupy my time. But at night, it's like a feeling takes me over once in a while, and I need to escape. And that's what I was doing sitting on the cliff top, looking over the ocean, with the moonlight trying to break through the darkness and show the world where I was. And then, everyone would know where I escape to. And I would have nothing. And having nothing is only terrible when the something you lost was never really that memorable in the first place.
Looking at the ocean was really like a sort of anaesthetic for the soul. I mean, there's this giant, unbroken body of water. And no matter how much people, governments, society tries to territorialise and segregate the ocean, it's all just one great body of water. And the waves keep coming in, a pointless journey with no start, and no real end, either, because it's just going to slide back out into the body of water where it came from. I guess life, my life, was like one giant wave. Born into something I don't understand, and when it ends, I have a suspicion I'll get the feeling that the whole thing was... pointless? Irrelevant? I don't know.
It's amazing what you can see from a cliff top. The rocks sliding down from underneath you as you unsteady them really makes life seem that little bit tedious and trivial. But aren't the trivialities what makes everything wortwhile? Does anyone care if you discover how many millions and billions of years ago the Earth was created, or you can memorise pi to a hundred thousand digits? It doesn't matter, not when what we do know is that ice-cream makes you feel better on a hot day, music guides the soul, and life ends.
The sand and rocks at the base of the cliffs don't look so much dangerous as inviting. Not so much in a suicidal as curious way. And the water that goes on, seemingly forever, doesn't so much look inviting as it looks frightening, as if it's a sign to say that there is so much I won't ever know. But the thing that really gets me out at night is the birds that fly at night. Their incredible scream, their black black soulless eyes and their ability to fly away from everything makes them irresistable. I knew it wasn't going to be long until I will want to be up there, flying with them. I took a look down at the rocks down below, ever taunting. And I looked at the ocean, forever moving, yet forever going nowhere. And I looked at the city, with countless lights blazing. A bird sitting in a branch gave a cry, turned its head on it's side, as if evaluating me. That black eye looked gorgeous. It seemed to almost smile, before taking off over the ocean. As if it was thinking, "you won't do it." "Not tonight," I thought as I stood up. But soon.
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hmm ok that story better not be based on bloody anything
you were thinking or i swear to god i will kick you arse
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jeez
settle petal
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ehhe sorry, just the end sounds bad if it's based
on some sort of truth..
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every fiction story is based on some truth, but every
truth has fiction in it.
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fine, as long as your story is mostly almost wholly
fiction..