Buried

Here’s another beach analogy for you to think over. I don’t recall if I have given you more beach analogies before but they are my favourite.

Have you ever buried your feet deep within the sand at the beach? I went to the beach today, the first time since I got back to Muscat on the 13th. This was the first time I went only with my father and I can’t really say I enjoyed it very much but at least it gave me time to think. Work has been consuming so much of my time that it was good to get some beach air. And along with a glorious view of the sun dipping into the clouds and the sea, I also had the fortune of forming another analogy.

My father was talking about academics, which is not unusual. It’s pretty normal and routine, so much so that I don’t even understand why it bothers me anymore. While he was asking about classmates who, as always, performed better than me, I kept burying my feet deeper and deeper into the sand. It was a pretty warm evening and so, the sand was warm and it felt nice. While my father talked on about courses and colleges that I feel I am never going to be able to reach, my feet went in further and further. My feet had no room to move and it was uncomfortable and stifling. I put more and more sand over my feet and even went as far as dumping a huge rock over it while my father spoke on. And then, slowly and surely, I removed my feet. I let the sand fly in all directions and the rock fall away. I thought I would like the feeling because my feet had space to move once again. The whole time that my feet had been buried, I had wanted to pull it out because it had no room for movement. But as soon as I did pull my feet out, I shivered and and pushed my feet right back in. It was warmer, safer under the sand than outside. As much as it was more comfortable to move outside, the warmth was something that my feet had become comfortable with. I couldn’t move within the sand but it felt warm and the cold was something I didn’t want to be exposed to. Even though there was so much scope for moving and walking, the cold was unfamiliar and scary enough to prevent me from coming out.

It’s me. I have always been stifled. It’s warm and safe, but stifling. Maybe they could have unearthed the sand bit by bit, but they didn’t. Now all of a sudden, I’ve been pushed out of the sand. I wanted to be out there, wanted to tread on the sand on my own and leave imprints but it’s cold and I am pushing myself right back in because I don’t know how to adjust to the cold anymore. I’d rather be buried, buried, buried.

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