The tide brushes my feet sending a familiar chill throughout my body. Standing in the wet sand that feels so uncomfortable yet soothing at the same time, I gaze at the mesmerizing blue waves of the Atlantic and try to recall how swimming in it felt. I can remember just floating on my back for hours looking up at the tranquil sky, thinking nothing can surpass this feeling, the feeling of being free, of being untouchable. The sea has always been my haven, my companion. I run into its open arms when my days become too difficult. It stores my secrets in every ripple and leaves me content after our encounters. I listened to the melodic voices of the waves giving me guidance. They made my issues feel small, and made life appear carefree, like anything was feasible. Within the notes of their voices, I swayed to the sound of hope, where I could bask in the glory of being naïve.

The ocean has always comforted me when my life seems chaotic, when I find myself about to implode. But now, as I walk into its warm embrace, I feel nothing. I am no longer pacified by its presence. I feel vacant, empty. There is no escaping my life, nobody to run to, and that terrifies me.

Without my sanctuary, there’s nothing. Home is an abandoned playground, no care or love. My parents are too consumed in themselves and when they do realize that they have a daughter, all I hear about are my imperfections and how I need to start living up to my expectations. School is no better. All my friends have drifted away from me, leaving a forsaken ship in their wake.

Concentrating on all the things in my life I don’t want to return to, I imagine finding peace in it all going away. At the realization of this contemplation I crumble into the sand, petrified that I find happiness in such an ominous thought. I cry for those who share my fate, I weep for knowing my end is near, and I wail for being too weak to handle a life that was generously given to me.

After my tears have subsided, I sit on the beach and look around, trying to implant this scenery in my mind, attempting to hold on to one last tiny piece of bliss.

My thoughts are shattered when I hear “Marie” being called. I turn to see John, an old companion whose friendship I miss the most, surprisingly walking towards me. As he reaches me, the smile on his face slowly fades into concern as he realizes something is wrong. And instead of questioning me, he sits down and takes me into his arms, gently rocking me, as if each rock may take away my pain. And as I grip onto him tightly, like he is the last thing securing me to the earth, I am struck with hope. That like the waves, I might rise again.