The stars and the sea.

There’s something intense about the beach at night.

I prefer the beach at night to during the day. When it’s totally empty, it’s just you and the sand and the waves and the moon. I was lucky enough to grow up very close to the sea, the beach was never something that was off-limits. I guess that’s why I find it such a relaxing place. I love beach bonfires and chilling with my friends on the sand or watching my dog play in the waves don’t get me wrong, but I love it when I’m there by myself, too. At night, it’s a good place to think or to figure things out. There are no distractions.

It gives me a feeling I can’t really explain. You’re totally alone, but at the same time you’re not. You know that somewhere in the world, someone else is looking up at the same moon you are, asking the same questions. You know that someone somewhere is swimming in the same sea that’s rolling up the shoreline metres away from you. You feel connected, but comfortably isolated at the same time.

To me at least, the beach is the perfect metaphor for life anyway. What is one grain of sand on a beach compared to the beach as a whole? It’s nothing. And that’s who we are – we’re that individual grain of sand that’s falling through our fingers as we play with it. We don’t matter, not really. We could disappear and it wouldn’t make a difference to the beach, or the world, as a whole. Our individual problems that we face, they’re huge to us. But they don’t matter in the long run. Soon enough, that grain of sand will be washed away by the waves, and nobody will ever know it’s gone missing. As the waves wash away my footprints that led me to sit on the beach at that moment, so too does time erase the past that led to the reason why.

It’s the perfect place to be if you’ve got issues. It makes you think about things, it puts your entire existence into perspective and it makes you realise that maybe things don’t matter as much as you think they do. It’s nice.

Advertisements

One thing I hate.

In a nutshell – people who do nothing but feel sorry for themselves.

We’ve all seen it. That guy who continually sighs in a conversation in an effort to get us to ask them “what’s wrong?” with our best sympathetic voice. The girl whose facebook status updates are nothing but “why does this stuff always happen to me.”

Sometimes – and I use that word loosely – there are genuine reasons for why someone feels sorry for themselves for an extended period of time. Acceptable examples of this could be, for example, when a relative has just died, when your twenty-five year long relationship has just ended, or when you have a terminal illness. Under these circumstances, I can fully accept and even feel sorry for the people who walk around staring at the ground with that mournful look in their eye.

I’ll be the first to admit that when I’m ill, or when something doesn’t work out for me, I will feel sorry for myself. This generally lasts until I look at the world and realise that actually, I’m damn lucky that what has happened is the worst of my worries. Oh no, my throat hurts when I talk – yeah, that’s a pain, but I’ve got food in the cupboard and clean water in the tap, which is more than a lot of people have. Crap, I didn’t get that job I wanted – that sucks, but at least I’m healthy and happy in life.

This blog entry is aimed at those people who don’t realise that. Or even those who do, but ignore it because they think their problems are worse. It’s aimed at the kind of people who you sit next to and want to scream “get over yourself, you ignorant bastard!” at. If you’re one of these people, then do me a favour: next time you’re crying into your pillow because your milk has gone over, or contemplating suicide because somebody unfollowed you on twitter, just take a second to look at the rest of the world and realise your life really isn’t as bad as you make it out to be.

Then do the rest of us a favour and stop trying to bring us down with you.

Rant over.