So she’s sitting at the sea and she’s thinking. She’s thinking she has folded over at the edges and she has become a tiny little box. She would like to disappear, she thinks (already she had started to, fighting at first against it, but now she’s giving in). The sounds are too loud. Her edges are transparent. Yes, yes, fight to live and everything but perhaps it’s easier to give in. Sometimes coming up for air is worse than drowning, you know? And nothing really matters of course. But oh, the sound is too loud – the sound of people living their lives.
So she’s sitting on the sand and thinking that maybe she should disappear. Be like the water, you know. The world is too loud. Too outraged. Too self righteous. Too pious. She wants to go where it’s quiet. But she knows nothing matters in the end. Not the past, not the future. People will still go on living their lives thinking they are the most important part.
So she’s wondering if she can disappear forever. Take everything and go. Fall off the face of the earth. She’s seen the other side. It lonely there for sure. But there’s no noise. Already she’s half off. Knowing nothing and no one anymore. The world is so quiet now. Too loud to go back. She’s standing at the edge.
Too long at the edge changes the bones of a person.
She’s got her hands on her ears now. It’s too much noise. The sea is coming up like a tongue to taunt her.
Her edges are almost out now. Sometimes she whispers. But who remembers that anyway?