I stand in front of the sea. It's a stormy monday. The waves are roaring, the wind is roaring. In between the roars, I can see your face. It's daylight but it's dark, grey, the colour of storm. My soul is quiet but afraid.
It's just a few meters, and I'll step into the sea. The water is cold, very cold. I don't understand what I am doing here. I understand but don't understand at the same time. It is cold and it is roaring, but it's also warm and welcoming. It's both a present and a knife.
And in the midst of the confussion, I stand. I am insignificant, the situation is insignificant. I should cry, I should hate or love myself. But no. No feelings emerge from the situation. It's plain nothing. I stand, knowing nothing. And I cannot be sad, and I cannot be proud. Nothing, just stand, before the waves, nothing in the colour of the storm. Nothing. Just me, and time flowing by.