“Well, I hope you find what you’re looking for…”

The last words you said stuck in my head, looping, repeating, forever, clinging to images of you I can never erase.

These words are a time machine, flying me back to relive the same goddamn night; a flight I am forced onto, while whining and crying and blabbering the entire time. It is no use. I’m helpless, watching our lives played out like a horror movie written just for me. Only you’re not here to hold my hand and cover my eyes. Instead, I have to watch the scariest part—seeing us die in your car that night, our shriveled up souls falling to hell.
        “Well, I hope…
                     you find what… 
                                    you’re looking for…”
The time machine dumps me back in my bedroom. Or is it hell? I can’t tell anymore. The rain outside whispers your name, beckons me to fall all over again. But I can’t keep living like this. I need to find what I’m looking for, then maybe I’ll find my way back to you. I can feel myself disappearing here, pieces of my soul smashed and scattered all over the universe, like sand soaring over the shore.  Look right through the screen of my soul.

So I draw a bath, wishing it will fill me up with something. Fuck, at this point I’ll take anything. After all, aren’t us great big humans mostly H20 anyway? Barely able to climb in, I begin
Until I can feel the contours of my body emerge like icebergs, just enough to prove I’m still here. This water I was once living in fear of holds me, murmuring something I just can’t hear above the surface. So I let myself fall further, because for a split second I feel brave, something I forgot existed. And what do you know?  There it is. I can hear it, beating slowly. The sound eerily reminds me of a fetus heart, muffled by fluid, peacefully resting in the womb. It is clear that it’s weak, but it’s still there, waiting for me.

Never have I felt so… alive. Swimming, further and further from the surface, I get closer and closer to my destination.  I can feel it. I’ve arrived. 

There she is:  a little girl I once knew floating clothed in her favorite old dress, holding her baby doll filled with water, crying. It’s all coming back to me now. Mouth wide open, I just can’t find the words; but that’s okay. I don’t need to. She sees me, I see her, and it’s enough.

“I thought you’d never come back for me,” she sobs.

I can sense how far the surface is, but it’s okay.

I can still save her.

I can save us. I know the way back. For the first time, I watch the sandstorm of my soul return to me. In this moment, I am here, I am strong, and I know it.

She must sense it too because the crying stops, and our beating heart crescendos. I pick her and our old dolly up, and shoot for the sky singing our favorite song and kissing her forehead. We’re
Finally; a flight I am piloting. We watch the water cyclone around us and smile, because it’s all going to be okay. And we make it home for the first time in one piece. So thank you for hoping only the best for me. I found her. I found what I was looking for, lost in the H20 of this body.

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