Tomorrow
TW: themes of depression and suicidal thoughts.
The days went by as quickly as they came, and Ash sat by the sea watching the sun rise and set from the same spot for months. She had been coming here since the rejection letter arrived, the one that told her she wasn’t good enough, wasn’t chosen, wasn’t anything.
It wasn’t just the job. It was what the job represented: competence, security, proof that she wasn’t wasting her life. She couldn’t even get that. How had she let it come to this? Every day, she told herself she was being dramatic. People dealt with worse. People had real problems. But the thought didn’t help. It only made her feel smaller.
She clutched the edge of the bench she sat on, the wood weathered and splintered, just like her. Her fingers ached from the cold, but she didn’t pull them back. Pain was a welcome visitor these days. It reminded her she could still feel something, even if it wasn’t what she wanted.
Her breath hitched as the familiar thought crept back in, uninvited. The backup plan. It had been with her for months, maybe years. A parasite that refused to let go. It loomed over her like a shadow, dark and familiar, whispering promises of peace.
She hated how much comfort it brought her, this plan that wasn’t really a plan at all. Just an escape. A way out. It sat in the back of her mind, waiting, patient.
The wind picked up, and she pulled her coat tighter around her frame. She used to feel strong and capable but now her body felt frail, like it belonged to someone else. The rejection had hollowed her out, scraped away all the parts that once made her believe in herself.
She told herself again that it wasn’t the end of the world. That she could try again. But the words rang hollow, a script she’d memorized to keep people from worrying. Deep down, she felt like she was running out of chances. Out of time.
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She stood slowly, her knees stiff and unsteady, and walked toward the edge of the shore. The sand crunched softly under her feet. She stopped where the water licked her toes and looked down, the waves sparkling under the moonlight, as if inviting her in.
This was it. The moment she had been holding out for. The plan she had always kept in her back pocket, a safety net that felt safer than it ever should have. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes, and for the first time in months, she let herself cry.
The tears came slowly at first, then all at once, shaking her shoulders, stealing her breath. She hated herself for it, for being so weak and pitiful. She thought about everyone who would call her selfish if they knew she was here, about all the people who would say, “You should’ve just tried harder.”
But she had tried. And trying hadn’t been enough.
The waves rolled in and out, unbothered by her existence, indifferent to her pain. She envied them. How easy it must be to move without thinking, to follow a rhythm that didn’t need effort.
She walked forward, her feet sinking into the wet sand, the icy water curling around her ankles. She kept going, the waves pulling at her knees, then her waist. Each step felt lighter, easier, as though the sea was taking some of her burden with it. When the water reached her chest, she stopped. She turned back toward the shore, the bench now a faint silhouette in the distance. She stood there for a long time, the cold water biting at her skin, weighing her down.
And then, she took a step back.
Her chest heaved as she stumbled onto the sand, the water clinging to her legs like a final plea. She collapsed onto her knees, her breath ragged, her hands sinking into the wet sand.
She didn’t know why she had turned back. She didn’t know what she was holding on for. But for some reason, she had chosen to stay.
The stars above were nonexistent, the waves crashing and retreating like they always had. Ash sat there, soaked and trembling, letting the cold seep into her bones. Tomorrow, she would come back to this spot. She didn’t know what she would do then. But tonight, she had chosen to keep breathing.
And for now, that was enough.
