“It just feels as if I’m constantly drowning, y’know?” I said, fidgeting with my damp palms. Why are they always so sweaty? “I see the shore for just a flash, the only bit of hope the ocean allows, because then another wave rises and rises until barely any sky is left, and then I’m struggling against the pull that keeps tugging at me, tormenting me with its firm grip, unwilling to let go. I can barely breathe, can barely think, all I can do is try and move forward, push against the pull, try and break free. And the more I struggle, the more pointless it seems. It’s as if –”
“…as if it were absurd to even keep trying.”
Our eyes locked, and I couldn’t help but notice the deepness within, irises filled with a chocolatey temptation reflecting a sense of understanding nobody else would ever be capable of reciprocating. Camus smiled from the grave.
“Exactly,” I replied.
“And some other times, it’s as if you’re just a spectator, moving through life, experiencing and accomplishing so much, and yet without ever really feeling anything. You wonder if your ability to feel has been stripped away because you’ve been so overwhelmed by feelings your entire life that you automatically discard them… there is just not enough time to process them, you just have to keep going, keep pushing forward.”
“And then you’re nothing but Living Death, a ghost.”
Nothing else needed to be said. Silence between us, we let the sound of the coquís drown away our pains.
Blissful sleep pushed reality away.
At least for a little while.
***
“We are a people!”
“WE ARE A PEOPLE,” they chant back.
“With a right to exist!”
“WITH A RIGHT TO EXIST.”
“We stand against the evil!”
“WE STAND AGAINST THE EVIL.”
“That just sees us to possess!”
“THAT JUST SEES US TO POSSESS.”
Sweat pearls down my neck as I raise my fist into the bright sky. Clear sight, with only my hair in the way, I help lead the multitude forward.
We wanted what most already had. What everybody needed. Our claims were simple, and yet so few were capable of understanding them.
That’s how my involvement began. I just didn’t know yet how deep a hole I was digging.
***
“Why are we brought into a world full of suffering? Why is life just a game of chance? Why is nearly everything determined by where you’re born and to whom? Why can’t we agree on these simple facts? Why do we still permit atrocities? Why can we make such horrid mistakes, unforgivable, and yet continue to live as if nothing had occurred? How is one supposed to find any type of hope or certainty in this world? Please, help me. Just help me figure out who I am, help me understand why I’m here.”
“You already know the answers, young one.”
“NO I DON’T. PLEASE, Elder.
“I can barely take it anymore. The pain of not understanding. How can you be so sure of your decisions? How do you know your purpose so clearly?”
“I do not know it…” Slowly, the head lifted from the ground. When it finally managed to face me, it said, “…I feel it.”
***
“There was a mole!” a sudden voice sounded through the radio system. “Operation failed! Retreat, retreat!”
There was no hope. I ran, one leg in front of the other, breath in, breath out. I ran and ran and ran until I couldn’t take it anymore, my entire body on fire, and then, just as suddenly as it all began, something hit my head and knocked me out.
When I woke up, I could already feel what had happened. They had all been wiped out.
All, except for me.
The world fell on my shoulders as guilt coursed through my veins, knowing that they had all died, and I was still here, still alive.
That is how I ended up in this place. I couldn’t remember the last time I tasted food. A few gulps of water every few days, barely enough to keep me alive, like the animal I was now thought to be.
I guess that was just what I was now.
***
“Join me.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“You know why. You’re from the other side.”
“You could also be… I guarantee your life will be better there. All you have to do is prove your loyalty.”
***
I was kicked awake. The foot burrowed deeply into my malnourished body. Then I was lifted off the floor and taken outside. I retched but no vomit came.
The sun was out.
Despite my present condition, I was happy. It had been achieved, after all. The celebration of a better life was in store.
But this would not be my celebration.
They brought me to the center of the plaza for public judgment. I knew the protocol. I’d mentally prepared myself for my probable execution.
And then I saw what would finally make me break down. Someone who was not supposed to be here. That couldn’t be here. Deep brown eyes, glossed over as if they were holding back tears. They’d come for me. Death Alive.
I looked around and found another attentive gaze, for the first time, not looking at the floor. Elder.
And then, the gunshot.
***
“Do you love your land?”
“YES!” we all shouted.
“Do you love your people?”
“YES!” we all agreed.
“AND ARE YOU WILLING TO DIE FOR OUR CAUSE?”
I replied what I had to at the time, but I remember I hadn’t felt so sure.
***
It all happened so fast. I saw it, about to occur. The man, the prisoner beside me, pulled out a gun. How had he managed to keep it hidden? He rose the gun to Elder, whose eyes were locked on my figure. I held Elder’s gaze, unwilling to let go. I couldn’t let this happen.
So I did what I had to do.
As I fell, I heard his voice emit one single word.
“Redeemed.”
***
Right then I decided. It was time. I let the current wash me away.
I finally understand the beauty of it. Trying, one breath in, one breath out, feeling until you can’t anymore, offering a smile, holding a hand, having been here, made mistakes; all of it matters.
But every breath I take hurts my chest, and the word “traitor” sprawls over the heart that beats oxygen through my body. But I feel so deeply it hurts; your absent hand has driven my own into absence as well. How can I be here without actually being?
My struggle, my existence, it was memorable because it was my own. But was it truly? Or was it just the Retrato of my own condition?
I tried.
I truly did.
Isn’t that enough?
My sins were unforgivable, and yet I eventually woke up, forgiven.
Away from all the things that, for so long, kept me from being whole.
In the shore.
