Puddles aren’t oceans; they don’t even compare



an image of the never ending ocean showcased under a bright blue sky

My rickety rowboat was never equipped for sailing the ocean blue.

It was meant for childish adventures in small ponds and the occasional river, but it was mercilessly thrown into the raging ocean with no guidance. 

It learned how to float out of necessity because others—you—were drowning.

I had no knowledge of sea winds and what ways they would blow. Sometimes they were guiding hands pushing me in the right direction, but most times, I struggled against them as if they didn’t want me to accomplish my goal. Crossing the ocean wasn’t a matter of importance for them, yet it meant the world to me. 

I never knew how to read a map. The wayward lines and crisscrossed rivers made no sense to my mission-driven mind. My only goal was to get to you on the other side before you drowned. But regardless, I persevered in my quest to save you no matter how difficult the map.

After the sun stops smiling from its spot in the sky and is replaced with its quieter counterweight, I struggle to continue onwards. I’ve tried to teach myself to navigate by the stars. I’m not always successful, and I tend to get a little turned around, but I will check every corner of the earth if it will help you stay afloat.

I always spend all my energy throwing you lifelines.

My sail has torn in multiple spots—it barely catches the wind anymore. The wind it does catch is nothing more than a soft sigh. My once quick-paced ship now requires more time in between missions to recover, but she’s never given the time; she keeps exploring and going and traveling the sea in order to save your soul from the siren’s call.

But I won’t let you fall victim to them—no matter how tired I become. 

There are several tasks that await my sleepless being on the mainland, but my number one priority is crossing this never-ending ocean to save you. I’d drop anything for you, whether you realize it or not.

I always spend all my energy throwing you lifelines.”

But when I’m sick of sailing, and I feel myself beginning to take on water, yet I realize you aren’t always willing to do the same.

I once found the ocean blue to be an abyss of mystery and magic with water-breathing monsters and angelic creatures beneath the surface. Now, after years of voyages, I’ve learned there is nothing special about the sea. It is simply a cruel body of fluid that works against me in all ways.

Even so, I’d cross the ocean to save you, but you’d only step across a puddle if you had a dry pair of socks handy.