Life is like an ocean, and I am driftwood thrown onto the shore. Waves wash up, scattering friends, lovers, family. Soon some pieces clunk together, wed by the sea, and divide into smaller representations of themselves.
The seagulls swoop in and peck away at us, scratching and tossing us to the rocks one by one. A man comes and throws me on a bonfire to burn in oranges and blues, and that’s my end, short, sweet, and in flames.
The ocean never ends, though. It continues to push us on shore, piece by piece, to come and go with the tide.