You’d asked me why looking at the ocean makes me cry. But to put it into words, to say it out loud, is to cry. You feel weighed down by everything and the ocean stretches out before you, seemingly infinite, and you are nothing but something that could drown. All this pain for nothing.
“I was smiling because I was endeared,” you said, “so I said ‘you’re funny’ to explain why I was smiling.” And I am nothing but something that can drown.