Passing By

I had a reoccurring dream of how it would end from a frighteningly young age. Unfortunately, those who were supposed to be closest to me had no idea—or anyone for that matter. But it was the only way. I couldn’t breathe anymore and there was no lifeboat in sight. Little did everyone know, I had been drowning for years, its just that now, I had grabbed a hold of an anchor in the security of the unknown. Besides, it couldn’t be worse than here.
Death always seemed to be shadowing me wherever I went. And as close as I’d get to it, the thoughts dissipated in the morning sunrise. This time, I awoke to the same sensations of the night before, alone and exhausted. Tired. Tired of dealing, tired of hurt, tired of running, tired of stopping, tired of disappointment, tired of crying, tired of hope. Tired of everything around me dying. Tired. I just wanted to rest. In peace. I drove 1.5 hours north of home to the shores of Lake Erie just as the sun made its daily manifestation. I didn’t want voices of reason around me. I didn’t want anyone passing by to have the memory of my sadness leach to their memories of joy. I just want the dawn to be my shadow. No more thoughts, no more voices, and no more restlessness—this was my moment of respite. I took off my shoes, sat my keys down and walked out to the lake. Just before the water reached my ribs I held my breath, let the water wash over me and never looked back to the sandy shores.