Ludicrous

Not worrying, for once, about millipedes or coral snakes, I cross the weeds in a rush.

A minute ago I was riding high, flawless, simple and shining with the sweat that covered my arms, legs, forehead, not quite blinding me. The breeze was cool and I waved to everyone I passed. There was a cool, easy serenity to the moment. Old anime songs drifted through my mind, filled the air with youthful gladness. Until I heard words I don't want to hear, and you know why.

You know why it's more than a sad story, happened to somebody else.

Despite the heat I feel chilled, seek the refuge of the hot concrete of the seawall, which has been baking in the sun all day. For a moment I am shaken, remembering five years ago, remembering concrete on my skin before, in winter, when the earth was cold, and the heat which emanated from my own body seemed immense.

The tide is unnaturally high this week, and the waves hitting the seawall almost reach my bare arm, hanging partly over the edge. With each wave I feel - sad, desperate, sick, mournful, worried, nostalgic, alone. I don't weep, I don't throw up, although I almost want to. No easy release. I can't purge myself of this.

I can see the light of the sunset on the water, all shades of cotton candy. The surface looks strange, like something you see in Final Fantasy. Boats rock. It's unreal, too simple, too clean, clear cut. It seems ludicrous, considering the rest of the world. I close my eyes, I can't look at it.

It helps a little when the wind comes, tearing the glassy surface into something like human skin.