It’s a cold night, considering how warm it has been. Cold enough for a cardigan, anyway. The water looks enticing. More than just for a late night swim. It’s almost pitch black, except for the light on the boats out at sea, the light saying “hey, I’m here. Don’t forget about me.” I could do with some of that. The forgetting. Forget about me. Forget about everything. If I could just be erased. It would be quite easy, wouldn’t it? To just erase myself. I find myself walking toward the water. It’s warmer than I would have thought. The water laps at my ankles, almost like an excited dog. Notice me, notice me. The world means nothing, really. It wouldn’t change much if I weren’t here. If I just swam out to sea and let life do what it may. Life, or death. Depends how you look at it. Knee deep now. It would be so easy to sink in. You know those urges you get? That dark part of your mind. It’s taking over. Throw your phone into the ocean. Jump off that ledge. Push that person over. You know the one you usually push to the back of your head, glad no one can read your mind? That one. My dress is in the water now, I’m waist deep. I forgot how heavy water made clothing. It’s weighing me down but I’m not fighting it. I keep walking. Shoulder deep. What difference would it make? If I were gone. Just a simple footnote. They would grieve, and then they would move on. Simple. Life would continue with or without me. Everything is immersed except my head. All I would need is to let go. Walk a little further. Ignore my body’s fight or flight. Just. Let go. It’s all black now. It doesn’t matter anymore. It never really did, did it? Life. Death. Depends how you look at it I suppose.
The wind is playing with my hair. The smell of the sea is strong. The smell of life. I’m standing on shore, completely dry. I haven’t walked in. Only thought about it. Will continue to think about it, probably. All of us do. Some just have a darker counterpart. My light will always win. It always does. I give it the attention it deserves, see. Always will. I hope everyone else does. Give in to their light, rather than their dark. Nothing romantic about death, is there? Nothing romantic about grief. It holds on to you, once you’ve experienced it. It just, sticks. It’s a part of your soul once death has touched your life in a profound way. I don’t really believe that, you know. That I don’t matter. That nothing matters. Of course it matters. That’s why I’m still standing here, still dry. Waiting for the light. It’ll come. Tomorrow morning. A new day, a new chance.
Give in to your light. Give it the attention it deserves. Your dark is strong, I know. But your light is stronger. You are stronger. I promise.