An Ease of Suffering

The attraction to water is built between the lines of every childhood. Maybe it’s a need within everyone, a primitive desire to be continuous in body and soul. To be composed entirely of liquid with no boundaries or form.

As a child there was little in life that gave him more pleasure than swimming. He was intrigued by the ocean, but found it terrifying and exhilarating. The fear of the unknown and the power hidden between the sheets of waves being applied and reapplied to the ocean floor.

Chased him, nearly reaching out and grabbing him, swallowing him whole. The waves threw him off his feet and though he tried his best to claw and grab and fight his way out, he knew it was useless, in the end it only played with him.

The ocean’s raw power toyed like the perversion of stepfathers in the basements of the most tortured homes, until it filled his every orifice.

Now long after my innocence is gone, death on my doorstep and experience under my belt I still remember him. His nobility in committing such a profound sacrifice. I can remember being knocked off my feet, water consumes me. Underestimating the strength of Poseidon’s grip. I am lost

My parents were nowhere to be seen, doing what they could to save their failing marriage, not knowing how redefining this day would would be to their relationship.

By shutting out the outside world, trying so desperately to learn how to love one another, they sealed their fate to parents orphaned from the responsibility of nurturing their first child.

His lungs burst in his chest
Holding his pale body on the beach, that was the first time I had seen my father cry.

My brother was the one to suffer

for my mistake

He was more experienced than I.

He warned me, but I refused. If I knew he would be the one to face the consequences I might have reconsidered. I underestimated the power of my naivety. There were many nights after, that I stayed up until the early hours of the morning contemplating how different it could be if it were me instead of him.

Spending my time like a minimum wage paycheck spread too thin. Wondering if there was anyone as close to him as I was wishing the same. Wondering what it really is that I took from them. A brother of mine is a lover of another. I hid him away from the world. He lives in my wallet, creased, a coffee ring stains his forehead. He is the only one who knows how it feels, in my guilt and in his image I drown.

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