I still remember that big smile of hers, as bright as a lily; she was one of my closest friends, confidants even, yet she didn't have a clue what I was going through inside.
I experienced pressure from my ignorant father at a young age; he wanted me to be absolutely perfect. It was fucking suffocating, but still, I smiled at her with my slightly crooked teeth. Hoping she wouldn't see the tears and the snot that would leak down my face before school started. I never wanted her to see that, because I know she would try to fix it if she knew.
But I was broken, like a clock that wouldn't turn anymore and needed to be thrown away; that's what I was, at least what I felt like. I would go home with my head held down, wishing it would be over, that some other version of me was born instead.
It's not that I completely hated responsibilities it's just that they expected so much of me. They figured that being born in a well-off home meant I was suppose to be atleast adequate. Do even better than them, make more money than they ever made. But what if I didn't do that? What if I was just mediocre instead of great?
That's what I wanted to tell my father, but he wouldn't listen, he just put more responsibilities on me until I could make my own decisions. He figured that keeping me busy would keep me happy and making money would change my mind about any doubts I had, but they didn't change my mind. In fact it made me think more about messing up, about not being perfect and when I saw my dearest friend just having fun and enjoying life.
I felt like something was wrong with me, I mean how can she still be happy while taking care of other people in her life? How could she have time for herself or even enjoy being here when people expect so much of you? How could she make it look so easy when it feels like a huge weight for me?
How could she…
Still want to talk to me even though I'm hiding so much from her?
It reminds me of a time when we were at the beach, I was eighteen at the time and she was a year older. Having me pick up seashells with her. I remember feeling like it was more of a chore than anything fun to do but I decided to help her because she promised me coffee after.
It was interesting because when she would pick up shells they would bigger than her ear, she would put it to the side of her face and try to hear the ocean. But I thought it was pointless because the ocean was right in front of her. Why try to hear something out of a hollow shell when you can just listen to the waves in front of you? But she didn't care, she would just take my hand and ask me to listen too, she would ask what I could hear. What I saw, she thought that the seashells didn't just tell the stories of the ocean, but also our futures.
What we could expect from our lives a little years away, she would say that her future changed up depending on the shell but it was always something she wanted to be. While mine, didn't tell anything, I couldn't hear anything when I picked up the stupid shell or see anything. I don't know why she expected a simple mollusk's shell to tell our future. It was a native fantasy and when I told her, I couldn't hear anything. She just told me to try harder, in which I just lied and told her a random career path that the stupid thing predicted.
Which made her happy, but it didn't make me feel any better than I was. Over the years that feeling of mine continue to decline and no mater what little adventures she would take me on, I just wouldn't feel better. I wouldn't feel hopeful and sometimes I couldn't even hide it anymore.
Sometimes when I would go back home I would pray that she would stay a little longer. I would squeeze her hand to get her attention but she would just let go and give me that stupid smile. I wanted her happiness so much, I wanted her to bring some joy to me but eventually I didn't even look forward to her visits. I would shut her out and say I didn't feel well, laying in my bed until someone pulled me out.
I tried to take things day by day but each minute felt suffocating, each second made me want to just jump into that stupid ocean and disappear. So when I started to hear voices from it, I couldn't ignore, it was like the sweetest melodies. The calmest feeling that would wash over me like a joyous dream. I couldn't stay away, even when she started to notice, I would start to sneak out at night just to hear the sweet hums. Instrumental lyrics that mix with the harp and piano, its own little music box, spinning in my head and eventually I let it take over.
One day at night when no one was looking, I sneaked off to the edge of the cliff, spinning in circles and dancing to the rhythm. I felt more free than I ever did in this blasted town and I felt safe, like I could be myself. I could breathe again without pretending that I wasn't slowly suffocating, I could be happy without worrying about what other people might think about me.
I could fall, and never look back.
So I did, I fell and I never regretted a second of it, I let the wind hit my face and the salt water take me. Crashing into the salty water as a pool of red, trailed from my nose and mouth. My eyes blurry but yet I could almost see something swimming to me, reaching and as it embraced me I smiled. I smiled for finally doing something for myself, for being brave enough to let go and the let the waves take me.
If I was to become sea foam then I hope I never remember my previous life of depression, with whatever happens. This was going to be a new me, either one not in this world or one who becomes something entirely different.