The sunsets are beautiful here. Not that I have much to compare it to. I would watch it every night when I first got here. Each time I did, I felt an ache that constricted my lungs when I thought about all of the time I had missed. Was it better or worse to experience so much now? I’d felt deprived living for so long in that dark place, but it also felt like my mind was filled with less shattered glass back then.

It’s a ridiculous question. Of course, I’m grateful for every moment that I have had. Maybe there’s just a disease lying dormant in every person. Once awakened, there is no pleasure, no happiness that can last without a vile thought burrowing in and infecting it. Maybe it isn’t quite as ridiculous a question because it more often recently, I need to remind myself to keep going.

It’s hard not to slip into a routine. Wonder and awe can only motivate you for so long. I don’t say this to be so negative. I only bring this up because this afternoon, I felt the sudden pull to watch darkness fall over the water again. It’s odd to actually feel nostalgia for a feeling that I experienced first hand. Maybe it was this wave of nostalgia that convinced me to follow my spark of intuition.

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As I watched the sky turn rosy, I braced myself. It wasn’t just the wave of sorrow over the time I missed when I was stuck in that dark place, but in the time that I had forgone for reasons that I am still not sure of. I must have looked strange, rigidly sitting on a beach watching the peaceful end to the day.

I felt strange when that pain never came. Instead, everything seemed so quiet. Even the sound of the waves crashing on the sand felt as if it came to me from further and further away. I couldn’t remember the last time I heard a silence that felt so complete. It was so quiet until I heard his voice, no longer a soft whine, but close and intimate in my ear.

“I’m glad you made it.”