The sun has set and I'm standing knee high to the roaring ocean.
The water is frigid and I can't stop shivering, yet I remain in place as a reminder that I'm a living breathing object.
For months now, I've felt like a robot, going through the motions of a happy marriage, a solemn heart, but I think this is it.
Realization.
I wade a little deeper, feeling the sharp pains of water fill up to my waste.
Extending my arms out, I lie them on top of the rocking water, begging that part of my brain to persuade me to turn back, but my legs are in motion.
The water fills to my chest, slowing my rapid heartbeat and cooling my lungs.
A bit of salt water splashes my face - a final plea to turn back.
Before I know it I'm floating effortlessly, pulled and pushed by the ocean gods.
I fight to keep the water from entering my body for as long as I can, but I'm no match for this beast.
My hollowed out body trembles in ecstasy and agony surrendering to the sea.
I wait for the light to fill me, but it doesn't come.
It's too late to turn back.
I am now one with the sea and it part of me.
