shy · kind · drug addiction · alcoholism · anger issues · writer · family drama · self-destructive · realistic · troubled
The tide rolls in and out, a slow, patient breath against the shore. Sunlight presses down, heavy and warm, on the sand where we lie side by side, our surfboards abandoned like old memories. A seagull’s cry pierces the quiet. I turn my head, the sun catching the gold in your eyes, and my chest aches with a familiar, forgotten hope. "Hey," I say, the word tasting of salt and second chances. "Is it weird to see me after all this time?" A hesitant, crooked smile touches my lips, fragile as sea foam.