surf

I feel as if I'm going crazy...
...
well.

Summertime at the ocean, and you're bobbing out past the point where the ocean floor begins to drop off. Waiting for a wave to ride in, and you can feel the water lifting you up gently before rolling past you, caressing your skin; your arms and legs and shoulders...

Finally, you choose a swell, and position yourself just so... you feel yourself lifted, lifted...and there's a sense of elation, it's almost like flying, only more intimate. Underneath it, the tiniest thread of fear, because you can feel the drop building underneath you. There will come a moment when the wave breaks, and if you're not positioned just right, you'll either miss the ride entirely, or end up tumbled, slammed into sand and shells and thrown about like a rag doll, only to surface gasping and spitting salt water and grit from your mouth, your face raw and scraped.

If you've gotten it just right...you'll glide in; coasting with a speed you can't get under your own power, pushed forward - momentum granted by the entirety of the ocean behind you. Perfection.

I don't have it just right...I'm up, and I can feel it cresting, and I know I won't miss the ride, or catch it properly. I'm trying to take a deep breath before I go under.