authors note: this is weird too but enjoy
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I turn, and run. The sand flicks up behind me from each step I take, the birds chatter and I let my arms fly free, my hair billowing out in the wind. I let out a string of noises, most would be classed as laughter, but to me and anyone who knows, really knows, they are the sounds of freedom.
My small blue car is parked at the end of the beach, alone, no one in it, no one around it. The sun is sinking, lowering itself gently down to the other side of the world, ready to awaken someone else. But that someone else isn't me, and I am all I think of as I run down the beach, my feet chanting songs as they hit the rapidly cooling sand and my hair whispering sweet nothings to the wind that entangles it's long fingers in each single strand. I am free, I scream, because I am.
Earlier, I wasn't.
People everywhere. Crowding and suffocating. My millions of responsibilities, job interviews, things to return, siblings to care for, so many things that sucked me dry, dry of life and energy and want. So enough was enough.
My blue car was in the driveway, begging, calling to me, asking to be driven away, far away from here, away from the noise and the voices and the construction. And I obliged. I got my keys, my miniature Rubik's cube swinging as my arm did, and I got in that car, and I drove, leaving everything behind, all the stupidity, and the emotionally draining words and people, everything. And I drove, until the sun began to light the sky on fire, the clouds turning a color palette of all the reds and oranges and yellows and even pinks, and I stopped the car at the beach and get out of the car and let the breeze caress my face.
I walked down the wooden sandy steps and faced the ocean. Then, I turned, and ran.
And here we are now.
I am free, away from the commotion and the people and the things that had to be done, and I am free from the media and the internet and the
connections, and I am myself again, alone but content on this beach, the sun glittering it's final goodbyes over the water, before disappearing for another twelve hours. It makes way for the moon, which I am very fond of. I am in peace now, a blanket of bliss has settled over me, and no one can tell me what to do out here, no one can tell me to go to bed or to get off the phone or get dressed, I
can do anything. There is no one here but me. I have the water and the wind and the moon all to myself for this one night. I could move here, move away from the noise, and live, alone.
I stop running. I run back the way I came. And when I reach the part of the beach below my car, I cartwheel across the now very cool sand, and flop down with my back on the grains and my eyes to the heavens. The stars are brighter out here, no pollution and fake light to dim them. They glisten, and they talk to eachother, speak of the sad young girl with the empty eyes and the sad little head tilts, who is alone, and finally happy below them on the beach.
I get up and take my shirt and shorts off and stand there in my undergarments. The wind whips my hair around my face and I stride forward into the water. The bioluminescent sea creatures glow as I move, appearing and disappearing, swirling around my body. The water is warm. The wind is cool. It is a perfect combination for a late night swim. I spend hours in there floating with the blue green brightly glowing things, until I begin to get too salty, and a desperation to dry off and lie down washes over me, much like the water does.
I get out. I lie on the sand, my back sticking to it. I smile.
It becomes too cold for me to lie with nothing covering me. I go to my car and get my towel and my blankets and my music and my beer and I go and I sit at the bottom of the small sand dune, wrapped in a cocoon of warmth. The breeze kisses me gently. I fall asleep under the stars.
I am free.
