...into the sea
standing on the beach before the hurricane winds hit their full capacity was the only thing that ever made any sense to her
she would scream into the ocean during a storm "what do you want of me?".
her fists clinched, angry tears streaming down her face - she would demand to know her purpose
why was she to be left alone
it was three in the morning and she would write, her thoughts danced in her head
they teased her, eluding her to the point where she wondered if she was going mad
would they heal her or make her feel more deeply?
she was not sure she wanted to go deeper
she could hear his whispers in them
if she wrote them would she even find the words to articulate them fully?
a lucid thought in her chaos?
she would need more
nothing was enough
there would never be enough language for the depths of her soul