Anxiety. Fear. Destruction. How long can this go on? I break and only partly mend before another wave hits. I cling to my life vest, but it doesn’t seem to do much good, it only prolongs my drowning.
I gasp before it hits, gulp a full breath of air then feel the water splash up my nose and trickle down my throat. I can’t open my eyes anymore. The water has blinded me, my own hair clings to my face for refuge.
I gasp for air, but choke on the wet strands that cover my face. Is it me or the ocean? I can hardly tell anymore. At what point does this life take? At what point will I bend far enough to break? I get weaker and weaker with every blow, yet inside a fire is lit. I’m ready to stand. If only there was solid ground. Somewhere. Anywhere. Not here. Nowhere to be found.
I wait and hope and wonder at the world. The dreams, the possibilities. Could this be all there is? Somehow, I know there must be so much more. With the waves come chills of anger, inside I kindle a fire, I go inward and find the strength to somehow survive. But is a life like that really worth living? To just barely survive. Nothing more.
How could there be meaning in the atrocity? How could there be better things? This is all there is, this is all I see. One wave, after another. They beat me as hard as they can, but in the end, they will not stand. They will fall back into the sea. And me? I’ll find my footing on solid land, even if that land is only somewhere in the fires of my heart.