The waves crash on the rocks. I sit here waiting and hoping, letting emotions fill my soul, because emotions have turned into strangers, from the day you left, but if being numb is an emotion, then I have felt it with full force. The waves on the beach bring me back and then, to you.
I saw you first wearing a yellow coloured t-shirt. You were struggling with the oversized buttons with your spectacles dangling on your nose. He is cute, I had thought. “What a fool,” I had muttered.
I fell in love even before we talked, not with you, but with your clumsiness, your voice, the way your eyes scanned the room and lit up when you found a familiar face. I fell in love, hard, not realising that this was not meant to be.
We talked for fifty-five seconds, I remember. About futile things, and we stammered and stumbled and laughed. It was awkward. But that day, I went to the beach near my home and let the emotions drown me. That was the first time you made me cry. Not the last.
Two years later, I heard my phone beep. It was you. “I lost her.” My heart fluttered, not with happiness, but with grief. My stomach dropped. I died for you a little that night.
Hope, they say, is a bloody thing. I say, hope was the only thing that did not kill me. You did.
Today, the waves crash beneath my feet. The last time I was here, was with you. My sailor. I had fallen in love. Nostalgia. Regret. Sadness. The last time I was here, was with your memories. The last time I was here, I was caged. The last time I was here, I was crying. The last time I was here, I was smiling. The last time I was here, I was laughing.
But today, all the waves do is bring back emotions, and with them, you.
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