She Was Sea

I’m trying to enjoy my freedom in a place that watched me grow.

I’ve been coming to this island since I was twelve years old. It has witnessed every version of me. The awkward years, the reckless years, the hopeful years, and the ones marked by heartbreak.

For so long, it gave me a sense of familiarity. A sense of belonging.

But now, much like me, the island has evolved.

We’ve both become strangers to who we once were.

Every corner holds a memory. Friendships that felt eternal. Sleepless nights spent talking about everything and nothing. The laughter. God, the laughter. Echoing across the beach, carried by the ocean breeze, surviving midnight rain and endless summers.

Life seemed so slow while we were living it.

Now it feels as though it passed us by in the blink of an eye.

The transformation took years, but looking back, it feels instantaneous.

I’ve cried here more times than I can count. I’ve had complete breakdowns in hotel rooms, on quiet stretches of beach, at the end of jetties where I thought nobody could see me.

I’ve experienced breakups here. Fallen into connections that burned brightly and disappeared just as quickly. Made promises I believed and watched others unravel. I’ve arrived carrying hope and left carrying grief. Sometimes I came here to escape life, only to find myself waiting for me when I arrived.

And yet, despite everything, this place has always welcomed me back.

Not as the girl I was, but as the woman I became.

Perhaps that’s why it feels different now.

Not because the island has changed.

Not because I have changed.

But because for the first time, I’m standing here long enough to notice that we both did.