Confessions

I used to sit on the beach at night, staring at the stars and wishing that I could fall into the blackness of the ocean. It was infinity and non-existant all at the same time; at midnight, you can't see the water, and you just have to believe it's there, because unless you stand up and jump in, there's no proof. I thought that it mirrored my life, that just because things seemed gone didn't mean they were. Nothing in life is as endless as ocean waves - in and out, in and out, they go, and all I wanted was to fall into them and breathe deep. I thought maybe if I drowned myself, he would come rescue me like he used to. I didn't want him, really - he was bad for me, like cocaine and kisses mixed together - but I was pretty damn sure that he was the closest bet at love that I'd ever have. There was something about sitting by the water that made me feel like anything could happen; I could be a mermaid and I could be free from him and myself and life, I could swim far away from addictions and problems and I could finally be okay - or he could come back. It was a lie, of course. Though the waves were endless, I wasn't, and he wasn't, and we weren't - I wasn't a mermaid and I wasn't ever going to be. It took a long time to realize that and it took a long time to stop waiting for him, but I've learned a lot since those days on the beach - nothing lasts forever, not even sparkling rings and promises.