New year, ? me

I wake up on a beach. The start of a new year, 2023. It feels like I was born today with memories from a past life, which start unraveling into my consciousness. 

It has been 4 days since I last saw the face of my mobile phone. I'm surrounded by the best of what nature has to offer, but they annoy me. In front of me, a small crab burrows itself into a small hole in the mud. Instinctively, my hand reaches towards my pocket only to feel emptiness and fill me with irritation. That could be preventing me from appreciating nature, or I was never an appreciator of nature but just liked the idea of being one. Time passes, but there is no memory to back it up. I go to sleep.

As soon as I wake up, I start writing in my book. I feel the texture of its cover on my bare right thigh, gravity pulling both down, but with different forces. I'm seeking to be philosophically enlightened in some way. Instead, I feel the soft touch of the covers of my blanket. It would give me a tickle if the blanket moved slightly. I divert my attention to my hands. Why do I have these hands, out of all possible hands in the universe? How can I call this face and this body "mine" when they are just structures assigned to me? Is there even a "mine"? Or is it just a concept that makes life more bearable? Where is my philosophical enlightenment? I fall asleep again. 

I'm sitting on top of a rock. It's close to sunset; red has scarcely been painted over the clouds. At this time, the sun doesn't seem overwhelming to my naked eyes, so it becomes subject to my gaze. A flock of birds that look like dots seen through a microscope glide across. I thought they flew in a pattern, but that no longer seems to be the case. Instead, they are all over the place, just like the sparsely scattered ships on the ocean. I return my attention to the sun, only to realize it has already disappeared. Darkness has wholly engulfed the sky now. 

My mind does not convey any more information about the past- I'm back on the beach. Five seconds into life, and I'm already confused. Are the waves in a hurry or not? When far away, they seem to be moving slowly, but their speed becomes inescapable when close. Maybe I should ask the rocks. I wonder, when the tides become low, and the rocks are left on their own, do they miss being touched by the waves? Two people start walking towards me from the direction of the waves with friendly faces. The girl beside me slathers Vaseline on her lips, although they don't appear to be chapped. Finally, the two people reach me, so we all start talking like it was the most natural thing to do.

After our conversation ends and the new year begins, I start thinking about the waves again- how they desperately seem to be reaching out to you. They almost seem daunting for a moment when they appear to swell with sunlight. Sooner or later, they are reduced to nothing. Then they stretch their hands towards you again. This process goes on and on- till what feels like the end of time. The flashbacks make a little bit more sense now. Hopelessly trying to attain something, only to get nothing or something else, only for it to repeat itself. The ocean seems content, though, with its endless pursuit. That could be my new years' resolution.