When she was 7 she still looked at the ocean and felt its danger. She knew it wasn't safe. She loved her life. She looked forward to her consistent happiness. She saw the older ones and knew they didn't have her passion for life. She never wanted to grow up into one of them.
When she was 12 she longed to sink into the ocean and was no longer scared. She knew it wasn't safe. She wished her life was a long dream of a sleeping creature in another universe. She felt numbness and didn't care of what she was or wasn't feeling. She saw the younger ones and prayed they kept their passion for life. She prayed they didn't grow up into what she had become. She still prays every morning for the strength to push through and never show a thing and never receive pity or worry from others.
She now looks for outlets. Making sure her mother never finds them. But she really doesn't care whether it's an accident or not. Natural or not. She just wants it to be after her mother passes so she won't have to go through the pain of mourning her daughter.
