Alive

I scream until my voice gives, and then I scream some more. The dry sound from my lungs is comforting, it lets me know that my body is fragile, that it can’t go on forever. It’s finite.
I gaze down into the sea below me, dashing itself endlessly against the cliff face. I think about what would happen to me if I tried, all the ways my body could break against the rocks.
I grab a handful of grass from the tuft beside me. It’s coarse and tough from a life of buffeting by the salty seas spray. I try to rip the stems from their roots, but they just tear into my flesh, leaving jagged red lines across my calloused palms. I clutch my hand to my chest and suck in a sharp breath. The stinging is unbearable, and my sore lungs heave out a sob. But the pain lets me know I’m alive.
I’m alive.

I’m still alive without you.