Voice of the Breeze

eternallycoilingserpent:

“Everyone makes mistakes,” she said.

I kept walking, watching as the waves collided with the driftwood. At that moment, I had an idea. I picked up a small log and tossed it into the ocean. I sat down and observed as it drifted into the break line. It could not pass, no matter how hard it tried to cross the oncoming swells.

“It’s in the past now, let it go.”

Over and over again, the log kept washing up on the shoreline. I would pick it up each time and toss it back out, hoping it would break free from its confines in the shallows. It tried and tried with no progress.

“You are not perfect. No one is.”

A wave then came — a wave larger than I had ever before witnessed. I stood up and treaded into the open water, standing face-to-face with the monstrosity. This was the moment in which I truly felt alive. This wall of liquid could mean my life or my death. It slowly crawled to its peak and I pointed my eyes to the sky to watch it bury me.

“This is the best decision you could have made.”

It struck me with the force of a freight train. It pushed me under its surface and beat me into the sand beneath. This was the moment in which I truly felt dead. However, after a number of minutes, I came up for a regenerating breath. As the blur in my vision came to a close, I looked across the sea’s veranda. There, past the sets of waves, I saw the driftwood floating; sailing. It made its passing and so did I. The breeze’s voice then came to a close as it said:

“Everyone makes mistakes.”

This is therapy in ink. It will rip you open and sew you back up.