Every once in a while, when a day is too tough or there are too many emotions, she goes to the beach and sit there. It doesn’t matter time of day or if there’s even a view — in fact she prefers the dark and being able to see and more importantly hear the waves crashing on a dark line. Where the sand ends and the water begins is unclear and if she walks a little too far, who knows? She huddles up in the car or on a little perch on the sand and watches the water as it flows in and recedes, back and forth, back and forth, washing away whatever crap there was on the beach.
She thinks about dying often though she wouldn’t quite call it that. It was more like an emptiness, a desire to not exist, a chance to leave and erase herself. She wants her death to be like amnesia in the minds of everyone she loves, a collective removal of any and all memories of her from their consciousness so there wouldn’t be any pain. That’s what keeps holding her back, the thought of causing pain because god knows she could never inconvenience someone else. It always has to be her who carries the burden, who solves the problem, who does things on her own, no help needed.
Life’s funny that way. She wants to be cared for, to be held and comforted, to be weak even just for a moment and yet every fiber of her being fights against this desire. She can care for herself. She can be her own comfort. She has to be strong.
She is a strong girl, and a sassy one, and a bold, beautiful, intelligent, sincere, compassionate, and stubborn woman. She is truly one of a kind, no one else quite with that sharp a tongue or wit, with that much anger and fire, with that much sadness and pain. She knows she’s irreplaceable, that her light is irreplaceable, that her presence is irreplaceable. Yet at the same time, aspects of her are very replaceable. Someone else will be the sassy, sharp-tongued, in-your-face demanding one when she’s gone. Someone else will make the study schedules and plan the dinner parties and find the cute coffee shops for study sessions. Someone else will be the shoulder to cry on, the voice of reason telling you to stop being so damn insensitive, the life of the party.
The thing about human beings is that each one plays a role but they are not the only one in that role. There are millions of people walking around on Earth today who play the exact same role, just for different people. And when one leaves, eventually someone else will come along and it’ll be like things never changed. The human heart is capable of coming back from a lot of shit, repair itself and move on. Sure they’ll miss her for a bit but in time, that just becomes another detail of their busy lives. We all move on and forget — we have to or else our brains wouldn’t be able to deal with it.
So is she unique? Hell yeah. Is she irreplaceable? Without a doubt. But can she be replaced? Maybe, with time and selective amnesia, it all will work out.
Every once in a while, when a day is too tough or there are too many emotions, she goes to the beach and sit there. It calms her, makes her think of washing things clean, of one wave replacing the other again and again.
