The Last Embrace

I have always had a sensible, almost reverential fear of the sea. To say it has plagued my life at every turn, would be an understatement to say the least. For as long as I can remember, though the nexus event has been lost in the winds of time and the ravages of my failing mind, I have been fighting the storms all my life. They have stalked me all my days. Even sleep offers no reprieve, no chance to recharge and ready myself for the next wave.

When I sleep, I'm drifting, in no particular direction to particular destination. I feel as if I've been drifting for a long time, far beyond the eight hours façade that sleep provides. The same old rickety, seen-better days, boat, in the same endless ocean. The deepest blues with skies of a crimson sunset as a tempest, the final storm builds around me. There is no earthly or sane reason why I survive each night. Still each night I find myself back here. No matter what damage the boat sustains from the awakening waves that seek to wreck out all in their path, no matter the volume of rain and seawater that the boat takes on and succumbs to the watery depths below, I return.

The infinity, the never-ending peaceful serenity that precedes the wrath of the deep blue is the only reality I know, as my head hits the pillow, and I'm transported to the stale and salty scented slats of the rickety boat that has become my nightly abode. The vessel of my doom. Perhaps this is some cruel joke or punishment or perhaps it is far worse - something unknown, something incomprehensible and indecipherable. Try as I have in the past, I've found no way to escape the inevitability. There's only so much sleep one can fight off.

Each time, it feels like the last time, both a repetition and a final farewell. Each time I live to feel that warmth of the glowing sun on my face and then the cold breezes that lift in force and velocity. That dread that sets in that follows the soothing calm of burning star's rays. Then the impossible fight to survive begins once again. Despite the cyclic nature, I have yet to conceive a solution, be it a break of the curse or a sacrificial appeasement to the elements that continue to conquer and mock my existence.

Is there more to this chasmic loop of going under? Though it's becoming harder to grasp at any solid train of thought, with each storm, I find myself closer to... something. Closer to understanding my fate? The end? The beginning? Are they not, truthfully, the same thing? The storms are more violent and less restrained than they were in the past. There is a volatility, uncontrollable, unnamed raged to them that is hard to fully understand.

With each storm, the wind that rages to its conclusion has grown, the waves have taken on a life of their own, as if given life by some sadistic animator. With each survival, my heart and resolve feels weaker. The darkness takes and leaves me. There is no interchange, no exchange. The beating heart that once filled my body with life is heading to extinction with each waking stormy nightmare, when sleep is all, I wish for. Endless sleep of nothing, with nothing.

As I lie in the boat, the same old rickety vessel I’ve inhabited for days, months, perhaps years, thoughts drift like the waves around me. I yearn for dry land—solid ground beneath my feet. The feel of soil, the scent of mud, the touch of grass brushing against my skin. My heart aches with the longing for something different, something beyond this endless torment.

There was surely a time when I was happy or content at the very least. Looking back, the details are out of focus, but I feel the love and connection to something...someone. A person, a time and a place I had long forgotten. Forgotten or misplaced in the vast corridors of my memory? In that moment I feel a sense of relief, of momentary bliss. Bliss that has long been replaced with sadness at everything I lost at sea. For a moment I remember all that I lost. Her... us. The sun beats down on any other day like the one before. The sea is calm as we sit at the water's edge. Bliss. That salty scent of the sea fills our lungs, as her laughter fills my ears, and we embrace. Bliss. Before that vivid memory I can touch, taste and feel is blown from my mind, replaced with a darkness, a shadow. My truest companion, the silent darkness that follows me. Where I go, where I eat, where I sleep and where I dream. Reminds me while I am alive, one day I will surely die. Reminds me that while I survived, all those who I held dearest, perished. The darkness of regret, of guilt heightens grief's grasp of my existence.

As the breeze lifts and the waves slowly gain momentum and stature, I barely notice, lost in my wistful daydream of a better existence.

As I hold on with waning resolve, the tempest—the relentless storm that has chased me all my life—erupts into chaos beyond anything I’ve ever faced. I feel a shift in my heart and soul; fighting is pointless.

As the storm seizes the boat, crashing waves slice through the old wooden slats, I don’t hesitate. I don’t resist. Instead, I dive into the air, surrendering to the very storm I’ve fought for so long. Let it take me, my sacrificial offering.

In that moment, I rediscover a feeling I had long forgotten. A smile breaks across my face as I hit the water, my body sinking deeper into the serene depths. I gaze upward dreamily, watching as the bubbles of life burst one by one, and above me, the storm finally settles. I settle in peace.

*

Thanks for reading!

Author's Notes: Not the entry I intended when I started writing. I may still write my other entry, though.