**“I BELONG TO THE OCEAN”**
*(AND YOU’RE DROWNING IN A PUDDLE)*

Listen here, land-rat. You think you’re *alive*? You’re not. You’re a puddle of regret, sipping Starbucks, scrolling reels of other men and women living your dreams. Let me drop truth on you like a tidal wave: **The ocean doesn’t care if you sink.** It doesn’t weep for your weakness. It *devours*. And if you’re not built to ride its fury, you’ll die whining about the “currents.”

I don’t “visit” the ocean. **I AM THE OCEAN.** My hunger? Tsunamis. My ambition? Hurricanes. My will? A riptide that drags cowards to the abyss. You think this is poetry? No. It’s a survival manual for becoming **UNTOUCHABLE**.

—

### THE OCEAN DOESN’T CARE IF YOU DROWN
You cry about “work-life balance”? The ocean laughs. You beg for “safe spaces”? The ocean drowns you. **Weakness is blasphemy here.**

The world is split into two:
1. **Sharks** who own the depths, who feast on fear.
2. **Plankton** who drift, hoping not to get eaten.

Guess which one you are?

The ocean doesn’t reward “trying.” It rewards **OWNING**. You don’t ask permission to be a predator. You *bite*.

—

### YOU’RE NOT A SAILOR. YOU’RE A STORM.
You think the ocean’s for “sailing”? For cute little boats and sunset selfies? **WRONG.** The ocean is WAR. It’s chaos. It’s the arena where men like me rewrite the rules of gravity.

While you’re clinging to life rafts—9-to-5s, therapists, diets—I’m commanding yachts, bending waves to my will, because I don’t *fight* the ocean. **I AM THE OCEAN.**

Your problem? You’re still trying to “swim.” Stop. **BECOME THE TIDE.**

—

### SALTY WATER HEALS ALL WOUNDS
“But ISABELLA, I’m tired—” Shut your shellfish mouth. **The ocean doesn’t do burnout.** It rages 24/7. You think my empire was built on naps and affirmations? No. I sailed through hurricanes of haters. I bled saltwater. I let the pressure of the deep forge me into something **UNBREAKABLE.**

You want strength? **DROWN YOUR WEAKNESS.** Let the salt burn away your excuses. Let the depths crush your self-pity.

The ocean doesn’t care about your trauma. It cares about **TENACITY.**

—

### SHARKS DON’T APOLOGIZE FOR BEING SHARKS
You feel guilty for wanting more? For taking what’s yours? Pathetic. **The ocean rewards predators.**

– Fish hide. **Sharks hunt.**
– Sailors fear storms. **I AM THE STORM.**
– Losers pray for calm seas. **I CREATE THE SEAS.**

Apologizing for your power is like a tsunami saying “sorry” for existing. **STOP IT.**

Your “morality” is a life jacket for cowards. The ocean? It’s lawless. It’s ruthless. It’s **FREEDOM.**

—

### YOUR LEGACY IS A TIDAL WAVE OR NOTHING
You want to be remembered? Build a legacy that outlasts continents.

– The Titanic? **A cautionary tale for the weak.**
– Atlantis? **A myth for plankton who fear the deep.**
– My empire? **A dynasty carved into the ocean floor.**

When I die, they won’t bury me. They’ll pour my ashes into the sea—because **I BELONG TO THE OCEAN.** And long after I’m gone, my hunger will still flood cities.

—

### BOTTOM LINE: SINK OR SWIM IS A LIE
There’s no “swim.” There’s only **DOMINATE.**

The ocean doesn’t care about your potential. It cares about your **PRESSURE.** Your refusal to crack. Your willingness to drown every version of yourself that isn’t **LEGEND.**

So ask yourself:
– Are you a pebble on the shore?
– Or are you the *wave* that erodes mountains?

I am ISABELLA FAIRFAX. And while you’re building sandcastles, I’m reshaping the planet’s spine.

**I BELONG TO THE OCEAN.**

Do you?

*- Top SLAYLEBRITY*

—
*(Comment “DEPTHS” if you’re ready to trade oxygen for **INFINITY**. The weak will block this.)*

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