72 hours

And so it begins

Saturday 11pm
I started my walk towards the beach. I've loved the ocean ever since I was a kid. I used to come here almost every weekend with my parents. I'd build sandcastles that looked more like hills, which made me frustrated, so I'd dig holes instead. My mom would always go into the water with me, just incase something happened. I felt so free and happy. Life was so simple back then.

When things first started to fall apart, I hated coming to the beach. I hated being reminded of those memories, knowing it would never be the same. Until one day I was hanging out with jess and she brought me here. She didn't know at the time, but when we showed up, I told her why I hated the beach and all the memories I had with it.

A week after that happened, I forced myself to come to the beach. I sat on the sand picking up handfuls, and watched it fall between my fingers. I couldn't get into the water, I couldn't attempt one of my sandcastles or dig a hole, all I could do was run my hand along the sand and think about all the memories I had there.

When I got home that day, I slammed my door and cried so loud It probably sounded like I was being murdered. I threw everything that was on my nightstand onto the floor. I trashed my room which made me sob even more once I realized what I had done.

A couple days after that I forced myself to come back. Sitting in the same spot and played with the sand again. I did my best to remain calm and it seemed to work for the first few minutes. Tears fell from my eyes as I remembered every single detail of every memory. All the places I dug a hole at, the only part of the water i'd swim in, the time a seagull stole my sandwich from my hands right after I took the first bite. That's probably the worst memory I have here from when I was a kid.

My phone started vibrating non stop so I pulled it out of my pocket seeing that my alarm was going off.

Sunday midnight
And so it begins.

72 hours