The Great Below

This. Will always be... me.
I twist my fingers through my soft, fine, dark brown hair. Look down at my stature... down into the sea.
There he stands. my self, the image in the water rippling and then standing still. The features appear - young oval face. Straight, long nose, pointed chin. Slight shoulders, thin limbs that taper into a dangerously-underweight frame. My right hand becomes limp and falls down by my side, swinging twice back and forth before it stops. I can't move. my almond eyes stare straight back at me, irises standing out so clearly against the water's surface. Light green with a hint of blue - the same as the gently undulating waves.
And I look at my hands - these larger hands, fingers so much thicker than the ones I used to have - and I can feel the flesh wrapped around the bones as I curl them into fists... and let go. These hands, like the rest of this body, will not last much longer.
The pale skin will only grow so much paler.
Everything he didn't like about his body... I thought it was so beautiful. But as I run my thick hands over my face, my throat with its protruding larynx, my emaciated chest and the ribs standing out.. .there is nothing to enjoy about this anymore. My previous self is dead, rotting into the ground, and all that's left is me. Me, known by his name from now until the last breath escapes my lungs.
I bend down upon my knees, pick up a small amount of sand in both hands, cupped together. Each grain is falling from my listless grasp. Time is running out.
----
He will be so devastated, the poor man, when he receives the news that his son is dead. Can I really do this? What is the bigger price to pay?
But I am a selfish creature. An awful human being. And I can't keep aching anymore. Would he rather have a false version with him for the rest of his days, suffering, in physical pain every day for the sake of letting him live in ignorance? Skin thinly veiling the bones - it hurts. And my muscles hurt. I cannot retain my musician's spirit in this form. It's gone... decaying just like my real body. How could anyone expect me to live in this agony? Put me out of my misery... PLEASE...
Goodbye to the soft rose lips, heart-shaped and still so warm. Let them grow cold. LET them.
A sip of the ocean-water from my own clasped hands. This is the medicine that will cure me of this curse.
----
Deep breath, and I look up to the sky. Waves and layers of dulled porphyry glide effortlessly one over the other, evaporating and melding again into rolls of smoke holding hands. The sun is nowhere in sight; neither are any trees, hills, mountains, nor a single living creature. All that exists is the beige of the sand, the green of the waves, the slate of the sky, and me... all inhaling the damp and crumbling salt-air in a collective, rhythmic breathing. My hands grow suddenly cold; I lean over the very edge of the shoreline... palms shaking in the sand's granules and thin arms tensing with all their might to support me...
Sa ei jätku palju kauem; varsti oled sa hävitatud.
Category:Nature
Category:Weird