The worst part about anything that’s self destructive is that it’s so intimate. You become so close with your addictions and illnesses that leaving them behind is like killing the part of yourself that taught you how to survive.
I am the sea and nobody owns me.
I do keep him at the back of my mind for those times I get my hopes raised about something. So then I can slap myself into reality and remind myself of what happens when you let someone into your sacred space.
Melina Marchetta, On the Jellicoe Road
She always loved the sea, but that never explained
why I saw shipwrecks in her smile. She was the type
of girl that slipped out of your fingers like sand,
especially when you tried to hold on too tight, she
didn’t like being too close. She’d crash into men like
the waves crashed into rocks, she thought she would
find herself in them but she never did. I told her she
already had something. I told her that the emotions
she held inside her were gifts to be written and given,
but instead she swallowed pills that took them away.
She asked me if I believed in heaven and I said yes,
and followed it with a don’t go without me. She shook
away the smile on her face and said one day she’d meet
me between the sea and the sun, I didn’t understand
what the hell she meant so I just said okay. It wasn’t
until the next day I called her in the morning and got no
answer, no answer, no answer.
The last time I caught a glimpse of her was when I set
her ashes free, between the sun and the sea. Where
she wanted to be.