Ocean Dreams

the story of someone who lost all the light in their eyes. warning: suicide

I peer over the edge I stand on. The water crashes a mile below me as a feel a guttural clench shift from my stomach up to my chest. My breath is hindered in a way that makes me remember the time I helped my friend struggle through her asthma attack and she was so, so sad. She questioned why she was chosen to feel as if she was dying each and every time she went a step too far, went a decision too deep into a bad day. I picture myself hours ago and ask myself how I made it to this cliff. I feel the wind push past my body and whirl in front of me. The clouds overhead extended forever in any direction, providing a grey haze that never ended and showed no depth, just consistency. As I look up and around me, I think of the absence of substance. I dig my heel into the sandy rubble that lies beneath my foot, and feel as though it’s a shame that I find the comfort I do as I stare death in the eyes. Jagged and pending, the rocks below me are beaten with the power of the oceanic waters. The ocean was always where I wanted to be before I died because it embodies the life I wish I had.

The ocean does not care who or what you are; it is a living, breathing ecosystem that functions to the best of its ability. The creatures that lie beneath the surface do not care who or what I am, only if I am useful to them. Family is valued but death is understood as livelihood. Once the creatures’ souls are lifted from their bodies, the beings remain at the bottom of a bottomless ocean, feeding back into the waters, supplying life to others around it. It is a cycle. There is no burial, no tears, no resentment, and no regret; there is only truth. The raw nature of the ocean is what always appeals to me. I do not want to be visited by family, cried over by those that never loved me, grieved by those who deserve to only feel happiness. As a part of the ocean, I will supply life to other creatures. My bones will be the only physical reminder to the world that I ever existed. I do not want my memory to be coveted or shamed. I do not want to superficially exist anymore. I want to fall out of the purpose of humanity and into the purpose of the universe.

As the clouds above move faster, I feel as though I am being pressured to move forward. I’m being told to step into the plans that I have set in front of me. As I inch forward, I feel the weight get heavier upon my shoulders with every step I take. It’s about to all be gone before I can wish it back. My toes dangle over the edge and I feel sick to my stomach. I have to go. Three…two…one…this is goodbye.

My body is drifting through the air as I open my eyes and see the sky above me getting farther and farther away. I don’t scream, I just breathe. I hit the water with unmistakable impact that shakes my whole body and wreaks pain into my bones. I shattered more and more as I plunged deep into the water, feeling the pressure choke the air out from my lungs. I don’t open my eyes, but I see clearly where I am. As I’m suspended in liquid air, I see my mother, my father. I see my brothers, my sisters, my friends. I see my future, I see my past; I see my hope. But it’s too late. I see my favorite coffee for when I’m feeling empty, I see the room I had my first kiss in, I see the man I was in love with last. Am in love with. I see my dog. I see my sister’s wedding; I see the scars on my wrists. I see everything that made me who I was, and I see each piece slowly drowning with me. This is not beautiful; my lungs are filling with water and I reach for a sky I’ll never touch again. As I fade out of consciousness, I feel free and trapped all at once. I made this choice. I can’t take it back…

“There are no memories here just the regrets of the dead… please don’t follow in my footsteps; cherish all you have left…

Are you at all haunted by memories’ past? Are you ready to make this one breath your last? Is your chest so heavy you’re ready to leave, or are you just hoping that someone will grieve?”

The ocean floor will open for my body. The creatures will make use of the being that once contained a beaten and battered soul. The music that tried to save me will try to save others as life underground consumes me. My soul is at peace, but it is no longer in motion. I am stuck as I was. Souls are never lost, but they are never found. They do not reappear, but they do not leave. My soul will forever exist in the hearts and minds and souls as a light of hope and love. The way it ended is not beautiful to me, nor is it beautiful to those that I left. This is ugly. This is the cleanest and messiest way to go; I did not want grievance. I did not want sorrow. But that was not my decision. The decision lies within humanity, and that is not something that I could have seen. I tried to go quietly, but my actions spoke so loud. I was a coward, and now it does not matter. I am a part of the void that we all try so desperately try to stay away from. The questions asked will never have a chance to be answered, and the lives lost will never be regained. A temporary problem was permanently solved. The domino effect will occur as it always does, and as I leave my body with the ease of death, I remain a reminder that there is no such thing as a peaceful death. Selfish is the man that believes death is peaceful. It is destructive. It is damaging. It is crippling.

As souls meet, they bond. The bonds of souls stitch and intertwine leaving them forever bound. As a soul is long, a seam is ripped; a soul is broken; a piece is missing and it will never be regained. It is a permanent hole that can never be covered or filled. Souls were never meant to stay whole, but god they were never meant to be shattered before the stitch was fully created. The voices of the dead will forever ring in the minds and hearts of those that are left behind. 

Author's Note

This was written about 4 months ago as i was pondering life and death a lot over the summer. if you have any feedback i would love to hear it.