She's never tried this, but something tells her it shouldn't be this easy.
Okay no, that's a lie. It's the twelfth time, but never before has she been so unafraid, so eager to just...let go. It scares her. But what scares her more is that she knows exactly why it's so much easier to picture it than it was before.
Because he didn't remember her, and he probably never would.
She takes a step closer.
Because even after all this time, after all the promises and hopes and dreams, he couldn't recall not a single one.
Because she hates the way he looks at her, like a stranger, while his eyes slowly fill with love for her.
Because they all look at her with pity, as if that's going to help. Because he looks at her likes she's his whole world, and he used to look at her like that.
Because she hasn't slept in what feels like months, years; because she hasn't eaten in that same amount of time.
The sun dips lower on the horizon.
Because it's only been a year, and yet she's lost nearly thirty-five pounds.
Because most days she hardly leaves her bed, unable to bear the sight of seeing them.
Because she gave him her heart, her everything, and she couldn't have it back, even if she wanted it. Even if she tried.
Because she'll never be a thriving architect, and never design their dream house, with five rooms and four bathrooms, and the huge porch and backyard.
Because they'll never grow old together; because he'll grow old with someone else and she'll never grow old.
Because someone else will have his kids and raise them with him, someone else will say I do with him, someone else will help him carry all his burdens.
Because she can't decide whether to cry or scream, so when she looks at him, she does nothing.
Because everything hurts so, so much; every one of his smiles, his laughs, his hugs and kisses.
The toes of her shoes hung over, nothing but air underneath them, the dark waves below her thrashing in the wind.
Because he was hers once, but never again.
Because he's gone, but not really.
Because she just wants to be dead.
The waves are cold, shocking. As she goes under she instinctively holds her breath, until eventually she can feel herself slipping away. Her eyes blink once, twice, and she thinks she can hear his voice, see his face smiling. Taking her home.
Because now she's gone, too.
Her eyes drift close as she floats along in the current.
Because she's finally at peace.