Farewell, Sea Shell
“Our love was like the water
That splashes on a stone
Our love is like our music
Why is it here, and then it's gone?”
That splashes on a stone
Our love is like our music
Why is it here, and then it's gone?”
Collecting shells, in part, is about coveting beauty and memories. Shells have existed long before we did, shaped by their journey, by what they’ve weathered beneath the surface before washing ashore. A shell you collect is special because you don’t know how many years of stories, how many past lives, it has seen before you. In the same way, love stories like ours have lived in countless shapes and forms, in countless shells, long before we came to occupy this one, in this life.
You were the shell I found by fate. A half-hollow shell I was ready and willing to pour my thoughts, emotions, and inspirations into. Everyone after you became another shell, filled with words I wanted to say to you but couldn’t. I don’t feel anything for you anymore, and I’m not sure if I ever did. I loved our story, and I know I could have loved you well. But beneath all the feeling, the logical part of me knew, from the moment our hands met on the keys, that this was how it would end. It’s like standing before the vast ocean and knowing it has edges, while also knowing that waves are boundless and will never cease.
The shell you occupy carried what we once had, but now it can’t hold the rest of what lingers in me. I think it’s time to return this shell to the shoreline, to let it be washed clean and emptied of its sediments and sentiments. As for me, I will keep wandering along the beach. I will keep collecting shells, and if I see a familiar one, I will still hold it to my ear. But I will no longer listen for the ocean, nor believe the shell can contain it.