Storm of Despondency

I sat in the sand, alone. My hair lashed out behind, whipped in the fierce wind that drove the dark, heavy clouds in and the tourists away. Squinting my eyes that were already scratchy from the drying tears upon my cheeks, I hardly noticed the stinging sand upon my skin.

Hollow, that’s how my stomach felt, perfectly matched with the sensation in my chest. There was nothing I could do to make things any better.

The storm and I needed to commune; we were one. It was restless and full of all the terrible things in the world, like my soul.

The only thing as deep as my pain, the choppy sea itself, seemed to call to me; the tide promising a swift descent out and down. The salt water would cleanse the wounds, even the deepest gashes in my heart. Perhaps I would see Atlantis before the pulses ceased in my brain.

Flashing orange lights, beach patrol, great. They yelled, wanting me to seek shelter. I smirked. Go? I had nowhere to go.

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