i stepped in like i meant it. no tiptoeing. no half-arsed hesitations. the tide met me mid-thigh with that hush-hum promise it saves for the fed up and wrung out. stubborn heart. swollen with scraps. bruised ego. brittle as burnt paper. they sank like soggy receipts. limp. ink-smudged. fucking overdue.
i didn’t flinch. didn’t plead. just let the salt start its slow, sacred surgery. all the petty pokes. the prickle of pride. the well-worn script of self-righteous rage. vengeance had been clinging like a damp dog blanket. loyal. rank. all bark and bite-back with no real muscle.
the water didn’t want reasons. just swirled around me like it already knew the mess and made room for it. slipped into the creases. unhooked my jaw. untangled the tight twist of my chest. and then something shifted. a glint. a glimmer. a glittering pulse threading between my legs. not grief. not dread. but a fizz. a flutter. a fast-forming flicker of anticipation. the kind that taps your spine like a drumstick. wake up. move. fuck yes.
sad didn’t put up a fight. just sat back, sunburnt and sulking, while i waded out like a worker ditching the world’s longest shift. no clock-out. no claps. the tide took me. held me. hefted me higher. i didn’t float. i rose. like breath. like birdsong. like i’d always belonged to the salt-slick rhythm of it all.
and there it was. not peace like quiet. peace like current. like chaos humming in harmony. like a snowball slinking down a mountain, gathering guts and glimmer as it goes. confidence didn’t strut in. it shimmered. it settled in my bones like a long-lost lyric.
now i’m in cahoots with the elements. letting the water rework me, the wind round off my rough bits. nature and nurture, not rivals but riotous collaborators. we’re conjuring something curious. something carved from current and contradiction. something soft-mouthed and sharp-toothed. strange, sure. stitched with spirit.
something that finally feels like me. fucked up, feral, free.