---
slug: fn-src-post-005
title: "Facebook journal — 2020-06-03"
kind: source_post
status: published
hash: 7134725637f192c2724d8c122c2a8872e1d0142820557786a41db76601d18b76
created: 2026-10-11T06:39:28.184Z
updated: 2026-10-11T06:39:28.184Z
summary: ""
tags: []
above: ["[[fn-index-posts]]"]
below: []
adjacent: []
nested: []
---
# Facebook journal — 2020-06-03

The shore feels further and further away, despite the effort and the effort has been sustained, it only draws further away. 

The ocean is baron now, void of any other travelers I originally departed with. In their absence, I have come to wonder who may know if I should reach shore, however doubtful, or give to the current. 

Alas, as time passes, and efforts double, I have only gained speed, and in turn, the current too has matched my pace. 

As a stroke lends itself to another stroke, but no matter how many my position maintains itself, I find that the chorus of voices in my head begin to surrender their usual triumphant tune. 

I need only stop, and stop that which has no purpose, and give to the ocean, to take me back to wherever it may. That would be freedom, to no longer endure the fight, which has neither purpose nor practicality in its continuity.

As this thought permeates many times, it begins to become unclear, whether the struggle has been forfeit or continued, as every marker on the land, or occasional fixture on the oceans top I had come to see with a regularity are absent now.

I think of her, for a moment, then a moment becomes a memory, and all of my struggles and all of my successes begin to alternate between themselves, as I debate whether she would even know the fate of the swim, or if the swim has drawn us so far apart that the time which has come between us has cleansed her of any curiosity to the resolution. 

As it becomes clear that the only way forward, is freedom from the current, alleviation from the memories of the swim, and to move onto a plane where these many struggles might feel foreign, I too feel foreign. And in that alien feeling that I am neither here nor there, I pray to fate that if I am gone here, then let it be because I live a life at shore, where I belong to all things pure, and one of them is her, of that I’m sure.

## Facts

```json
{
  "platform": "Facebook",
  "source_id": "https://facebook.com/100035971342878/posts/pfbid02r29o8Zi1zawvkQR416416gYgHNooK4gFWasbc8JZ45X6uDyR1KV8wppZjh21z59ol/",
  "date_as_recorded": "2020-06-03",
  "post_type": "text",
  "author": "Cyrus Massoumi",
  "retrieval": "Facebook connection timeline fetch, 2026-10-10 (case file Appendix C)"
}
```

---

**above:** [[fn-index-posts]]