I am so tired, I can't remember the last decent amount of sleep I had. My body feels like it has been hit by a freight train while my mind hovers somewhere in the realms of detachment. I don't see the point in forcing sleep, as ever I step out of the traditional lines society draws around us. I sat by the sea in the cold dark rain wishing that dawn didn't have to break, hoping that through some mystical force I could stay in my world for longer than nature dictated. The tide was in splashing around my feet, the smell of the salt was so strong like I've never smelt before. The waves crashed around, rolling in and out with a strange combination of unique predictability. All I could think was how peaceful it must be underneath, how easy it would be in the dark to let the waves wash over me so I could forever be a part of this beautiful moment. But it wasn't my moment, it belonged to someone else somewhere else. The rain looked so sharp, like shards of glass firing down underneath the street lights yet fell on my face so gently but with a speed that meant I had to keep blinking and couldn't see properly. How much reserve do we keep inside ourselves for emergencies? Maybe it's similar to the loose change down the settee, pot luck. I still have some and all the while there's a strange spark of fizzing flickery light then I'll draw from it what I can. In terms of lost loose change I have enough for the essentials so I have enough to live on. All Of Us by Big Country. The words of that song kept rolling round my head, the spirit of suicide. Forever there, watching and luring, tempting me to run away. Every word of that song I connected with in the most personal and unobvious way. It doesn't make me sad though, in fact it's one of my favourites because it reminds me I have a choice. People say there is always a choice but there isn't, not in every situation there just isn't. I knew I had to go home, I couldn't stay today. Bin men turned up disturbing the peace and reality tugged at my soul and poked at my heart. As I walked away, still in the dark, a Robin flew under the street light and just stood facing me fluffing it's feathers with the brightest red breast. It is said that the Robin is a divine bird, spiritual, in that moment I chose to believe they are and that the greater good spirit had won this morning in the battle of spirits as to which side gets my soul. Written by and shared on behalf of Steph Grainger (@TattySoul) | Twitter Photography by Steph Grainger (@TattySoul) | Twitter
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