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>final year of university
>book last minute plane ticket to Costa Rica for two weeks
>on plane to Central America
>amazing everything, meeting lots of great people, feeling free and learning about life
>go to beach town
>rent a surf board from someone
>he recommends I not go in the water until the next day
>riptides are about to be strong
>go anyways thinking I'll be quick and just really watch myself
>surfing away and all is good
>life feels great, troubles melt away and nothing matters but each stroke, each wave, clear mind
>barely anyone on the beach, nobody watching me
>head down paddling back out to catch the next set
>look back at beach and it's far away, much further than any other time
>being sucked out into the Pacific
>struggle against the riptide for 35 minutes but make it back to shore eventually with the surf board
>yes, I knew to swim parallel to shore to try to escape the current
I gained a lot of respect for the ocean that day. I already had some, but maybe not enough.
I have other stories too, maybe more exciting ones. In my /out/ adventures I sometimes push it a little bit, some part of me likes to have some element of danger and the possibility of not making it back.
>not suicidal
Does green text really help to tell stories?
