I was always meant for the shore, the ocean, the brine and silt and coral far beneath. My pale flesh ripples, tears in streaks from my legs, arms, from my stomach and chest. The moonlight basks the oily, aqua muscle underneath, the gills that run across my throat and along my rib-cage. The cold of the water is as comforting as a blazing hearth. The hidden black depths before me like the love and welcoming of the mother that I never had.The tide wanes above my knees, my waist, and I’m standing, wading, my arms being carried by the strength of my home to be. Tufts of auburn hair fall like leaves and are taken away by the water, patches of face soon follow. The pallor light fades to fuchsia through my true eyes. The scent of the sea and taste of salt make my body shiver with anticipation. I look over my shoulder, back at the place I once believed to be home, then look ahead to the place that truly was, is, and always will be my home.I walk forward until I am entirely submerged, then I am gliding down into the welcoming hidden black depths.If you like what you read, consider subscribing to my subreddit where you can read more of my work: /r/MicahCastle.