She dances with the morning mist, wild and untamed, a majestic blend of salt, smoke, and seaweed. I love her; I love her because she wears no masks. She laughs and weeps and rages, revealing herself with every wave that pushes its way toward me, and I am jealous of her honesty. I stretch my legs out in front of me, burying my narrow pale feet into the earth, a desperate attempt to feel dirty, raw, and real like the sea I envy so much. She sees my weakness, and spits in my eye, scoffing at my futile attempt at authenticity.
Minutes pass, and the sky stretches out his hand, waiting for my embrace. I wrench my eyes from the glittering water, moving them upward to watch stale light reflect off of swirling rose and lilac clouds. I've seen this a thousand times before, but his lie is new every morning, and I am eager to believe. As usual, he has come dressed in his finest, assuring me that today is new, full to overflowing with promise. I know by now that there is no redemption, no new beginnings, not for me.
Even so, we all find our own way to survive. I pull my feet free from their brown cocoons, close my eyes, and let the morning kiss me. It is warm and comfortable, and I wrap myself tightly in the deceit of hope. I will leave the ocean to speak the things I cannot, and surrender myself to the waiting arms of dawn.