Photo by Scott Webb on Unsplash

The death of me started when I got married so young

I remember listening to the waves pounding the shore but not seeing it for the dark of night.

I remember the blanket of stars above, so close you could touch them, yet so far and distant that I felt somehow humbled.

I remember the sand under my feet, cooling off after a hot day.

Carefree.

Joyful.

A joy of life that only the young experience.

I had not yet been torn down by years of negativity. I had not experienced the bitter loneliness of being in a loveless marriage.

I was laughing as I tumbled unafraid down the sand dune.

There was no fear.

Only jubilant enthusiasm and appreciation for life.

Love me as I am. Love life as it is. This was me. This was my message.

I could not know then that I would be stripped of that.

I could not know that I would become so bitter. I could not know that the very good-natured person I was then was the reason he chose me.

My naivety turned out to be my enemy. My trust betrayed. My world of good turned black with ugliness.

Only after we separated was I able to once again restore my joie de vivre — my exuberant enjoyment of life.

And find my true love.

(First featured on Medium platform June 30, 2021)