The month of January unexpectedly splashes me in the face, drenching my dress of choice.
I prepare myself for the inevitable by pulling my thick, dirty blonde hair up into a ponytail. More cautious than I have ever been, I take a step forward. The jagged rocks below are recently soaked, my bare feet kept dry. I am apprehensive, but ready. This is my favorite feeling to jump into. I tell myself to relax, wait, and hold back just enough. I don't want to submerge myself because I know the excruciating pain of drowning far too well. I attempt to fight any urges, but ultimately choose to take the plunge. The tide feels shockingly different this time -- warm, calming, and much more promising. I am perplexed as the sweetness of this particular sea rushes up my ankles. The confusion sends an undeniable chill down my spine. The saltiest of bodies are usually the type to find me. All different in their own ways, but similar in how each one pulls me under -- immaturely and indefensible. I am dragged across the eroded stones and broken shells -- my tanned legs turn a frightening shade of red. Doused and disturbed while those who play dirty are unconditionally clean. The icy waves smack across my fading smile as I contemplate how I am here again. Through all of my travels thus far, I am unfamiliar with interactions unlike these. I know I have not been here before. The most cautious and caring pool to dive into. A guide who like myself, and ironically enough, lacks directional skills. A special, bright blue spot in an abundance of black and white that I never knew existed. Absorbed in a rink of sleet -- I am not playing games. As days pass by and the weather turns hot, sweet droplets continue to touch my skin and I am flooded with excitement. I ignore any concerning waves because the bliss washing over me is irresistible. I reach my most vulnerable point, saltiness flows from my eyes because I realize I am in too deep. Soaked in emotion, "I'm sorry" is repeatedly spit out of my mouth. However, I am unapologetic for being invested. If or when this body completely dries up, I am a fish out of water. Buoyed to something that was not nearly mine yet hurts to lose. I tip a liquor glass to my lips and swallow one gulp after another, stinging my throat -- drowning myself. Breathing heavy and vision blurry, I reach out to the shore. My thirst cannot be quenched. At this moment I am distanced against my will, left drifting alone without a boat in sight to rescue me. I swim against the current refusing to let go, frantically searching for anything left to hold on to. Beads of sweat drip from my forehead as I am sinking, gasping for air. I cannot help but stay hopeful that one day I will tread comfortably again. Now I search for an island -- a piece of paradise I have not yet been.
1 Comment
Tami Murphy
6/19/2017 02:24:23 pm
Truly amazing!
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