Dear Diary …. by Kellianne Sweeney

Dear Diary,

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote a depressing little post about a young lady who misguidedly committed suicide. I have received such an outcry from comments and tweets lamenting her death that I have decided to continue the story. Okay, okay! I will save her!  Thank you for your wonderful concern.

To read the first part of the story, go here: https://blogkelliannesweeneydeardiary.wordpress.com/2011/10/29/in-the-churning-sea/

She had carefully planned and executed her death. She had convinced herself that her heart could not go on beating without him. It was very poetic and made sense to her in her state of overwhelming grief. It had seemed that there could not be any purpose in the days ahead without him. It all made sense before she was actually drowning.

She had lived beside and loved the ocean all of her twenty years. She had daily breathed the thick and fragrant seaside air. She had grown with the ever present thin layer of gritty sand on herself and everything around her. Her tongue was accustomed to the slight salty tinge that lingered there. In the night the soothing lullaby of the endless breakers would sing her mind into sleep. She had always respected the sea, especially when it was angry. In the past, she had shied away and waited patiently for its’ tormenting tantrums to pass to be replaced once again by majestic good humor. But now she was engulfed in the sea’s full fury. It wanted to steal her breath and make her its’ own.

It was not as easy to lose the desire to breathe as she had thought. Faced with being taken, her will to continue her life reared up dramatically. She suddenly became desperately determined to grasp at every last sweet second of it. This seemed to incense the sea all the more. It thrashed and pulled her down as she struggled to retain living. The sea began to seep inside of her little by little, reducing her valiant attempts to break free into pitiful, ever decreasing splashes within its’ immense body. Her mind began to wander over her life’s events as the flow of breath eased away. She heard him calling her from far away; her Love, gliding closer to her consciousness. Her own name filled her ears as he beckoned, even as she slipped further down.

Then she felt firm hands grasping frantically. The grip was lost with successive swells of the ocean, then regained once again. Her head suddenly broke the surface and she choked and sputtered before gulping the air greedily. Her heart and lungs burned unmercifully with the effort. Her mind was woozy and confused as she became aware that she was being dragged away from the clutching sea. Her name was being caressed by another in her ear, but it was not her Lost Love. It was a voice from childhood; a comforting, strong force in her life. It was her brother. The voice had been there during many minor traumas in her life and it was here now. He was weeping for her as he stumbled and struggled to drag her limp body to safety. He begged her to open her eyes and to breathe. He admonished her for what she had attempted to do and still he wept frustrated tears.

She opened her eyes and squinted in the pelting rain that insisted they close. She held them open and whispered, “I’m here.”