Second Chance | Teen Ink

Second Chance

February 28, 2023
By Yuseflateef06 GOLD, Valley Stream, New York
Yuseflateef06 GOLD, Valley Stream, New York
17 articles 0 photos 0 comments

I stare at the sea, with a recurring hunger for answers. We are no longer strangers, now at least aquatinted with one another. From our brief meetings in the past, I knew the answer did not lie in its shimmering reflections. The merciless vacuum lying underneath its pristine exterior held the secrets of
peace. Or so I'd assumed, but I had yet to act on my curiosity. I peek over the railing, only to notice a conniving, lingering presence that contends with my reasoning. It must be the wind, which I hear whisper to me, as its soft breeze fuses with the saltiness of future regret. The wind curls around my ear, and I feel it crawl its way to the center of my skull. My cries are brought upon by the wind, which howls hysterically as it continues to tug on my memories. I grasp the railing for security, but it's no use. I follow through with the wind's incitement, as I leap over the rail towards the sea, towards serenity. For a split second, I felt true freedom, unbound by the wind or by gravity. I had made the most profound choice anyone could, and yet, a sinking feeling edged its way into my gut. I instinctively reached back for the safety of
the rail, which was now miles away. The sea began grasping at me with its greedy hands, the unforgiving water staring intently at me. The sea prepares to consume my every last atom, and I can hardly make out the manic laughs of the crashing waves. I try to scream, to plead with the sea for a second chance, but I feel the wind weigh me down with eagerness. I turn away from the sea, looking back at the safety of the rail back at the top, which I'd give anything to reach. If only I could've seen the sea for what it truly was. If only I could've seen its colors from where I once stood. If only I could've fought
the wind with strength I've seemed to lose. It's too late now, and pleading with the ocean serves little purpose. I fail to accept my fate, but with no one left to argue, I let out one final plea. The ocean turns away, failing to comfort me in my final moments with its selfish presence, still managing to hoard the
answer to my curiosity. The wind is no longer pushing me, and the rails are no longer visible. In my last moment of existence, I truly am alone. I W-


The author's comments:

The cutoff was on purpose


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