It’s so beautiful. The waves lap gently on the sandy shore. My toes curl. Wet sand squelches through the gaps between my toes. I frown. It’s uncomfortable. A wave glides gently over my feet washing away the sand. The furrow in my brow softens, but it is not completely lifted.
Why am I like this? I’m on the other side off the globe and yet I cannot seem to let go off the past. Even now in this paradise my demons chase me. I laugh. I don’t know why. There’s nothing funny about it. It’s quite the opposite of funny actually. My laugh turns quickly into a gasping sob and I wrap my arms around myself in an effort to try and hold myself together, as if that could ever fix the shattered broken mess of my soul together.
I glance about hoping that nobody saw me cry. There’s no one on the beach, it’s too late, it’s dusk and the weather’s too bad. Out of the corner of my eye I glimpse a small rowing boat. It tips, letting water cascade into it. I just stare as the water slowly floods the boat. There is something mesmerising about it. The owners won’t care. It’s very old but quite elegant for an old boat. My eyes flutter, as the harsh winds push the sand into them. Then I make a split-second decision. I don’t know why, but saving neglected and broken things appeals to me. I guess it’s because I can relate.
I rush forward into the churning water. It’s not that far out – I can make it. My trousers are soaked and weighing down my legs, but I continue to rush forward against the might of the sea. It didn’t look that far from shore but it’s actually further away and I’m up to my waist now. Froth and foam are swirling around me as I wade forward. It’s up to my shoulders now. I should turn back. I wouldn’t want anyone to give up on helping me if they were that close, but I guess it’s different for me because no one will ever notice me. My trousers haul me down like they are made of stone, slowing my efforts. The water is up to my chin now. A wave crashes into me, throwing me backward. There is a metallic taste in my mouth. I must have bitten my lip. If only I could get to that boat. I should’ve turned back but it’s too late now, the only way is forward. A black mass of watery pain towers above me and crashes into me, throwing, spinning and tossing me up, over and through the waves. I can’t breathe. I’m going to die.
Where am I? I can’t breathe. It all floods back. If I could I would laugh at that, but I can’t. I try to swim up… which way is up? It’s not like in the movies, you can’t see which way is up and which is down. All you know is that there is no hope. There is a burning fire sensation in my lungs. To make fire you must have oxygen. Ironic right? There’s this sort of peaceful feeling that you get when you’re about to die where you’re just so relaxed. That’s when I know something is very wrong. I can’t die, not yet. I swim up, down, I do not know. The fire engulfs my lungs and I know it’s over.
But then I break the surface. My hands stretch up and slam into a hard-wooden shell. The boat has been flipped over. There is a small amount of air in the hollow, but the water is rising. No. The boat is sinking. I try to push it up, but my strength has drained completely. The water has reached the top now. I take one last breath, knowing that it could possibly be my last. I push up. Nothing.
I’m sinking, I must have passed out for second. It’s no use anymore. There is no use fighting it, any strength I had in me has completely disppeared. It’s not like what I was living up there was really a proper existence. I have truly wasted my life. I haven’t done anything special. All I’ve done is let people down. I didn’t want it to end like this. I wanted to be surrounded by family. I realise that I am truly alone.