See, The Sea Wants to Take Me

I walked, again.

Goddess, I was sick. And the rain was pouring. I didn't go there to kill myself, I promise. I needed the water, I just wanted to feel the water. I got the plan in my head, out of the blue. It was a long way to walk for just a plan, but for once I wanted to not give up on an idea that I had. So I walked.

It was raining, and I was already cold by the time I got there. The stream was full, but that was to be expected, from the rain. I didn't know what I was walking towards, I felt numb even in the face of that beauty. As I walked along the bank, the water got deeper and deeper, darker and darker. It's spring, I should have anticipated it. I climbed up the hill, one slip away from falling into the deep pool beside me, then onto the train tracks. It looked different from what I remembered. Water frothed from the three pipes, so much more violent than on the other side. It spread out, white and foamy, as if its own living mass. I waited a moment to take it in, the magnitude of my plan. As I walked down to the water's edge, I knew I would die if I decided to go into that pool. I told you, I wasn't going there to die. I walked downstream to find a calmer spot.

I hung my coat up on a tree, and crossed the river. The water rose up to my knees and froze my bones. It's spring.
The current was stronger than it had looked. But isn't that what they always tell you? Not to underestimate the power of water? I knew something horrible could happen, but I went on. Looking for a deeper place. I crossed to the other side, watching the water break over the rocks before me. On the sandy bank, I saw something. a small string of beads, barely above the dirt. I walked to it and grabbed hold, gently pulling it from the sand. A rosary came up in my hand. Was that a sign? I cleaned it in the freezing water, and hung it around my neck. I carried on.

Trying to cross the river again, I could no longer feel the cold. I held onto the slippery branches of a tree, to stop myself from being carried downstream. If I found what I was looking for on this particular day, I would surely die. But the water was not as deep as what I sought. She was telling me, I didn't have to do this. True, I came here with a plan, but I didn't have to go through with this. The rosary, She gave me a sign. It wasn't meant to be like this, and there is no shame in turning back.

Cold and numb, I walked home.

"The water will never rise high enough to carry you away"

Lead me home to my town

I'm longing for a relationship.
But not of the kind I had previously thought. I think perhaps, you could call it an aromantic relationship, although I know I have a highly romanticised vision of it. I need a brotherhood, a comradery, trust. A true relationship. The kind you see in movies, or read about in strange fantasy novels. It's like a state of knowing. Perfect love, and perfect trust. Where each knows all about the other, understands, and is there anyway.
It's a deep thing, and yet at the same time, so simple. A relationship without fear. I have always looked for a home in the hearts of those I have been in love with, yet how can that be when they are so inconstant? It has been said, that we put so much effort into our romantic relationships - because we expect them to end. So much so, that we neglect our friendships - our brotherhoods - because we expect them to always be there.
This type of kinship is such an active thing, but passive at the same time. The flame is always burning, except you trust it, and don't feel the need to tremble in its wake, to rush to its every whim for fear that it will burn out.
A trust that if you need it, if you call it, it will come to you without complaint or second guesses. The kind of thing that you would die with, happily.
It banishes insecurity and instability, just by existing.
This is what I want to build.
And interestingly enough, this is the formula for my perfect romantic relationship as well - except that would have the addition of kissing.

As well as this, I long for a homeland. For a town or a place, no matter how small, that I feel love and loyalty to. A place I can resonate with and belong to. And I believe these two relationships go hand in hand. I want to work the land, I want to build a home, a family, I want to build a life. Our pioneers did just that. And they didn't have much, not even certainty of the future, but they did have eachother. A love that outshone any hardship. A love above all else.
Will you build that with me?