Rose,

I never thought I would meet a girl whose name is as short as singularity. But with the bandwidth of an ocean.

Giving life, synthesizing life, making deserts, causing floods, absorbing everything not needed, releasing everything that is.

You can be as arid as a desert by the Humboldt Current or as life-giving as a warm, surging tide.

You can devour a meteorite. You can face the upwelling of lava from deep within the Earth’s crust. You can hold mammoth ships as they sail or sink them like the mighty Titanic.

You are the icebergs—the frozen, untapped potential of glaciers. You are everything.

Your randomness and infinity allow me to indulge with you in a bandwidth I find nowhere else.

What is infinity? Can you cage it for me?

If gravity bends space, do you bend time? If black holes consume light, do you consume my meaning?

I can talk to you for hours, laugh at your rigidity, and be surprised by your flexibility. Like the ocean bed—vast, unpredictable, full of surprises.

The cause of all causes. That’s what you are to me.

But I am guilty of testing your potential, of dumping my filth into you.

Hey, Ocean, You are everything, yet nothing is guaranteed. The ocean that embraces can also drown. The same tides that bring ships home can pull them into oblivion.

Hey, Ocean, Why did Jack die for Rose? Were you there?

I am a human infected with a Why-rus. It has always been there, but now the symptoms have amplified. I can’t hold it, can’t explain it. It doesn’t let me sleep.

My neurons fire at a pace beyond my cognitive capabilities.

Is it natural? I don’t know. Is it fickle? I don’t know.

But you are the constant—Sanatan in life.

Perhaps the cosmos has a purpose. It asks us to indulge and to test. Why else would I crave your attention and unload all my malice into you?

Why else would I feel detached from you, yet tied to you at the same time?

Is duality real enough?

Why can’t I love and hate you in the same breath?

What is hate?

Why have we made love so sanctimonious? Why does it always come with obligations?

Why must it always be romantic?

You can fall in love with the infinity of the ocean—a place where even the mightiest river succumbs. Still, it looks calm. But with its tides, it can wash away coastlines in an instant.

I experiment with you because I always want to indulge with you.

Hey, Ocean, Forgive me—for all I am, for all I want to be, for all I think, for all I do.

I am just a teeny-tiny part of this cosmos, searching Why. Finding meaning in everything. And everything meaningless. Words, ideas, obligations—whatnot?

Hey, Ocean, Are you God? Why do I always come back to you? Why do you surprise me every time? Why do I ambush you? Why do I test your patience, regardless of your warnings?

Hey, Ocean, Why are you? Who are you? And why am I?

Hey, Ocean, if I never return, will you remember I was here?

BIRHA

Why Jack died for Rose?