That was nine years ago.
This one was a warm summer night. I decided to go out on the rocky beach. When I postponed myself comfortably, I did something I'd never really done before.
I sang.
Belted, more like. At the top of my lungs, so you could hear a mile away. It just came out, the notes and pitches being made up as I went. There weren't any words, of if they were, they had to be foreign, benign to my ears. It felt like everything I'd ever held in was flowing out. I only stopped when my lungs burned and my breath ceased. Exhausted, I dragged myself back home, where I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.
That's when the death started.
