Walking on the seawall, the City looks like a chalky smear of tall buildings in fog, burnt orange by the setting sun. The ocean was choppy today, coarse and rough with spitting plumes of spray which occasionally smacked my face, turning it salty and tight in little clouds of droplets. Raw white crests on the waves danced, turning yellow and spongy before disappearing when they hit the shore. There is a cold, sharp wind which tries to whistle in under my jacket, and my earrings clack in the wind, growing colder and brushing my neck like icy fingers. My mouth tastes bitter and metallic. My eyelashes are crusted with salt and I want to tear my garments and rub myself with earth, rub myself in the Earth.

There are so many things and people I miss right now. I feel sometimes that I cannot hold all the missing in, it is like a black hole which gapes hungrily out from me. I am going to collapse and suck the world inside of me.

I am the elephant in the room.

Sometimes I am surprised by the words and language which come out of me, much as I imagine a woman is embarrassed when her water breaks in public. It’s such an intrinsically private act, suddenly there for the whole world to see, and everyone is solicitous and caring. I wonder, sometimes, if women like that secretly wish they could disappear, melt away, like I do. If the attention of people concerned about them almost makes it worse, highlights the glaring error of what is not in the scene. I don’t want a concerned bystander to call a cab, I want to see the face of someone I love. I long for something which I may never have again, not the hand of a stranger on my arm, sickly sweet syllables in my ear, shaking my head, confusion. I am filled with jagged anger and longing which orbit each other around my sun. I am reminded of my bitterness and sorrow daily, I taste these things in my food and see them in my dreams.

Everything is broken.

More and more lately, I feel like the rock in a middle of a stream of water, fixed and going nowhere while everyone else rushes by. They brush me as they bustle past, but I cannot reach out to them because I am immovable and hard, brittle. They are moving by too quickly to stop.

Nothing is broken. Everything is fine. Carry on.

Sometimes I want to just disappear, slip away over the horizon to a place where no one can find me. More and more these days, I feel like no one would really notice.