The ocean asked me to marry it once.
I told it simply, and with regret, that I could only walk on sand, not on water.
It scoffed at me. I didn’t need to walk on water, it told me. I would be underneath the waves. Underneath the harsh beating of surface, where the ever expanding world was at my fingertips.
I asked why.  Why I should listen; Why I should give in; Why I should even contemplate handing myself over?
It responded with trinket after trinket. Little jewel after little jewel. Treasures upon treasures that could be mine.

I watched as my family walked away from the sandy shore and called my name.
I apologized for my hasty retreat, but I couldn’t worry my family.

Of course, the ocean said, but I will wait for you. One day I will carry you in my loving embrace, and we will be one. Whether I can win you over, or have to sneak you away.

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I once had conversations with the ocean. Whenever we’d visit the beach, he’d be an old friend I was visiting. I'd talk about what was going on in my life, the difficulties I was having. I would ask for help, as if the broken waves would whisper my answers to me.

I am the only child of my mother, and the second child of my father. My sibling is about 10 years older than me and I never remember actually living with her except for a few, unsavory memories. So I was raised mostly alone, with only an occasional friend and a thriving imagination to accompany me

I would ask the ocean how he was doing, and arrogantly he would reply that I should come under and ask him face to face. He wanted me to come join his kingdom. It was where I belonged, underneath the storming skies and commanding the currents to obey my whims. It was simply what I was made for.

I can understand, looking back, why I created this small fantasy world. I was not very popular, and so with the lack of friends, I simply made my own. I needed to feel wanted and important, and of course the King of the Ocean bidding me to be his Queen worked rather well. My parents and I went to the beach almost every weekend when the weather allowed it.

I would bring gifts for the King, such as he would give me small treasures. I would bring a crystal that I had found. A rock that was somewhat special to me. A shell that had sentimental value. Perhaps even a pendant from a necklace that I knew he’d like. Whenever I forgot to bring something, I felt like I had treated him poorly. He was always so good to me, and there were days when I completely forgot to even say ‘Hello’.

Eventually, for the most part, I grew out of the phase. I no longer bring little morsels for the Ocean King to feast upon. But every now and again, when the waves crash over my feet and there’s that dragging sensation that I’m being pulled in, I think (wishfully) that I didn’t imagine it all.
And that perhaps, I really am that special and that important to someone.  

The last time I visited the beach, I thanked him for all of the little jewels I had found. And even though I felt foolish, I thought it amusing that every time I decided to leave, I’d find another jewel, which inevitably caused me to stay just a little bit longer.

Well, it’s a nice thought, anyways.