Peggy March once said that there’s no such thing as an ocean too deep. But let me tell you something: there isn’t. Actually, there are infinitely deep oceans that aren’t too deep. No ocean is too deep. And you won’t drown, I promise. You can go as deep as you want, my friend. The question you should ask yourself, though, is whether or not you have the desire and/or the need to spend your limited amount of time on a single ocean.

And to you that’s reading this, you might think I’m having one of those self-indulgent carpe diem bullshit types of thoughts. But no. By the way, fuck that guy. What guy? The good vibes, no hard feelings guy.

My shoulder is aching, and I haven’t exercised in a long time (almost a week and a half). I haven’t gotten used to my new notebook keyboard, and I hate feeling stiff—like I can’t punch some buttons with the strength of my stiffness. Or worse, miss my punches.

Anyway. I just punched my shoulder. It didn’t work. It’s still aching. Maybe that’s symbolic? I don’t know for sure.

To think that to be happy with her is to accept that I’m not absolutely perfect and that I can’t be the right guy. I’ll repeat that for you: I can’t be the right guy. I can NOT be the right guy. This is, whether I like it or not, just one more thing that makes me see that I’m not an unstoppable force of nature that has to be reckoned with.

And to think that I believe I’m a protagonist of some sort makes me laugh at first. But deep down, the knowledge of death makes me see that delving into this ocean of filling a perfect role will make me bored of myself and, most importantly, blind. And that’s rather obvious to me now that I’m talking about it. How are you even supposed to see if you are 4,000 feet underwater?

And as a moon seeker myself, it would be truly sad if I couldn’t see her. I don’t want deep down. I want your whole surface and the light you shed on me. Nobody loves the moon for its rocky interior; we love it for its meaningful shell.for its meaningful shell.