Lost Soul

I lay upon the damp sand that seemed to be clawing at me, and fine sprays of the ocean misted before my eyes in protest. I glanced up at the majestic stars, while a crisp breeze surrounded me. The beauty of this moment almost makes me forget what happened today. Almost. Perspective is a luxury when your head is constantly buzzing with a swarm of demons.

What had happened was no fault of mine, despite what it looked like. But I shouldn’t take myself back. These godly waves – I imagine them capturing my painful thoughts and drowning them swiftly, silently, saintly. I was in a self-induced trance, and at that moment, I understood the appeal for hallucinogens. Apathy is deliciously dreamy.

Introspection. The pain was not gone, and neither were the tears. The misery fed on me, and felt like acid scorching my skin. It had become apparent to me, only too late – the evil in people, and the careless manner in which you become disregarded if you have nothing left to give. I could sum the psyche of an entire species in a word: self. But I had made it my aim to be different – and look how far that’s got me.

I gather my strength in an effort to lift myself up – both literally and metaphorically. This used to be my happy place, where no one could find me. Or hurt me. And I didn’t have to be shared. The serenity and stillness calmed my sorrowful heart. Bliss. The waves began to ease, forming picturesque art.

It stunned me at first – only because I knew it was real. So light, so carefree, my body floated like a ragdoll. It disappeared, and then resurfaced. There was no going back, because the deed was done. The image seemed hauntingly beautiful, and framed by the incandescent moon. I accepted it only because I knew it was inevitable. I was dead.

Is this what death looked like? A painless, albeit disturbing, out-of-body experience?

I had in death what I had in life: self. I was all I had. Not someone to love me, protect me, tell me it will all get better. I just had what I knew I could rely on: self.

The beauty was returning. My soul still tossed on the sand, and I began to notice it again. I watched as the crimson rays of the mighty sun tinged the water with rainbow hues. The birth of a new day.

I could see this in context of my life. Because sometimes, our minds see what our hearts wish were true.

My modified version of an essay originally penned by my closest friend, Senrika Eshwarduth.