The teen years are marked by a desperate passion. Tsunamis of passion absorb one so that one's own will is secondary. Youth lends its body to the tsunami, makes itself limp, and permits itself to be carried by the violent currents.
I always thought it was a careless thing- that people who got stuck in the sea were simply fools.
Yet, one day I was fascinated to see a man paddling a lifeboat in the distance. My heart burned as I watched him getting battered by raging waves, swayed and flipped, yet desperately clinging to the meek little boat. As I gazed entranced, a tsunami crept up on me and whisked me into the depths. I couldn't breathe, but I didn't struggle.
I could've swum to shore... but I didn't. I dreamily hoped that the current would someday grow powerful enough to thrust me to him. I hoped to climb aboard his boat and spend the rest of my days being stirred about with him, not drowning but blissfully floating on the violent seas of passion.