train wreck
738 Words
I sat by the sea,
a place once meant for strength,
now cradled my pain,
stretching in endless length.
Waves spoke in whispers,
soft but steady and clear,
"I can do this," I breathed,
though doubt hovered near.
Each tear that fell
blended with the ocean’s salt,
I searched for reasons,
but found no fault.
I prayed for an ending,
a quiet, painless escape,
but life had its grip,
despite my heart's ache.
You were the extra weight,
the burden I didn’t need,
your absence, a wound,
but also the seed.
Now, as the days passed,
the beach became my friend,
holding my sorrows,
yet urging me to mend.
---
Fragments of Tomorrow
I carried my hurt
like stones in my chest,
dragged myself here,
seeking a place to rest.
Each time I came,
the sand knew my weight,
familiar with tears,
and the burdens of fate.
I screamed into the wind,
the words tasted thin,
"Strong enough," I cried,
but felt so weak within.
And yet, with each visit,
the air grew a little light,
I stayed until sunset,
and found hope in the night.
---
Breaking the Chain
I thought love was forever,
I thought you were the key,
but when you left,
I finally set myself free.
No more waiting,
for you to make it right,
no more trusting,
in shadows or the night.
You broke something in me,
but also let me see,
that strength isn’t in waiting,
it’s in setting myself free.
I found the missing piece,
but it wasn’t love from you,
it was the courage,
to start my life anew.
---
Silent Healing
For a week, I came,
to the place where I broke,
sitting in the silence,
where the pain first spoke.
I watched others heal,
with problems of their own,
and realized then,
I wasn’t truly alone.
In your leaving,
I found a place to stand,
not needing a shoulder,
or anyone’s hand.
Now the beach feels different,
a place where I belong,
where I learned that alone,
I am still strong.
---
The beach, once a sanctuary for my physical training, transformed into a refuge for my heart. When the weight of life grew too heavy, I stopped my routine and walked to the shore, a place not far from my home but miles away from the pain in my chest. With my favorite food in hand—though I wasn't hungry—I made my way to the spot where the waves could carry my cries, and the wind could scatter my thoughts.
I wasn't alone. Others dotted the shoreline, each lost in their own silent suffering, healing in their own way. But I chose the middle of the beach, away from anyone who might hear my silent screams or witness my tears. I needed space, and more than that, I needed to be unseen.
I unwrapped the food I couldn’t taste, but I ate it anyway. It wasn’t about hunger—it was about grounding myself. The food, the drink, were things I could hold onto while everything else slipped away. I craved a hand to hold, a shoulder to lean on, someone to listen—but I was alone. Alone with the sand beneath me, the sky above me, and eagles circling overhead.
“I can do this,” I whispered. Then I screamed. “I’m strong enough.” But strength felt like a lie. In that moment, I wanted to surrender. I wanted the sea to take me, for life to let me go. I prayed for an end, begged for release, because every new problem felt like one too many. You were the last problem I could bear.
For days I returned to that beach. Each time, the waves washed away a little more of the hurt. The food became less of a crutch, the sand a familiar comfort. Slowly, the cracks in me began to seal.
I realized something on that shoreline: you weren’t just a source of pain; you were my turning point. When you left, I found the piece of myself I had lost. I thought love was my answer, but maybe love isn't for me. Maybe I’m not meant to love or be loved—not anymore.
So, thank you. Thank you for walking away. I don’t need your apology, and I will never wait for you to come back. You leaving was the beginning of me finding myself.
- Writer
