You’re running.

Your feet slip and slide through the sand, pulling you back, just like every other obstacle in your life. You do the same to it as you’ve done to the rest—you push it back and keep running. The sand smells bad, the result of hundreds of smelly, bare feet leaping into it for a game of sand volleyball, but you don’t give it much mind. Still you trudge your way through, remembering your own night of sand volleyball here.

You were all shouting and laughing. You teased each other over ridiculous plays, because none of you knew how to hit the ball, let alone serve it. The sand added an extra level of entertainment, and once you got bored of attempting to play volleyball, you settled around with the others at the edge of the rink, burying your feet in sand up to your knees. You listened, but their words drifted away, and your only thought was for the cold encapsulation of the sand around your legs.

But that was then.

And this is now.

It’s a quarter past midnight, and ten minutes ago you were laughing, shouting, and singing along to the roaring music at the top of your lungs. It was a beautiful night to be alive, and you were loving it for all it was worth. An uncontrollable urge to be outside had pulled you out into the November night, clad only in a T-shirt, rolled jeans, and a golden bracelet you got for graduation. 2020 sparkles clearly on it when you touch it, but you pull it closer to your chest, not wanting to accidentally lose it somewhere in the sand.

Like always, you’re running alone. It’s easier this way, you tell yourself. You never have to worry about someone else telling you what to do or what to say. There is no responsibility or commitment except to yourself. Distracted, you slip in the sand and fall, hard to the ground.

It is then that the frustrations, the pain, the anger, the anxiety, and all the other emotional trauma finally catches up to you. You lay where you fell and stare at the full moon above you, crying. Why do the tears always come so easily? You ask yourself. Crying solves nothing, so bitterly, you force them away.

You stand up, like you always do, and you keep walking.

Around and around the court you take laps, circling back over and over again, unwilling to stop walking, because when you do, everything catches up to you.

“Ash!” someone calls, interrupting your disjointed trudging. You turn, squinting in the dark. Surprisingly, there are two girls, one of whom swore never to talk to you again. “Are you okay?” she calls.

You hesitate, not knowing what to answer, and your voice breaks as you call back your reassuring “I’m fine!” Yet in that moment, you know beyond a doubt that you are not fine. You are not okay. You’ve never felt so hopelessly helpless.

The girls express their doubts, but it’s lost on you as you plummet into a hole of self-defeating darkness. You search for a rope, but you can’t find one…

“At least get a coat or something,” the other girl says.

You suddenly shiver in realization but laugh shakily. “I’m fine,” you repeat. “It’s like seventy-something, right?”

The others shake their heads. “It’s thirty, Ash.”

“Oh,” you reply. It didn’t feel that cold, but suddenly their bundled coats make more sense. “I’ll go inside soon,” you lie, attempting to placate them.

“Okay,” she trails off, and the two of them walk away as you thank them. You stand there a few moments longer, wondering if the entire conversation had been imagined. You wonder if you had only seen her standing there because that’s who you wanted to see.

You turn the music back on, and then you’re running again, slamming your feet into the sand again and again, feeling the friction burn your heels. You’ve done nothing but lose everything.

“Take me to a different place/Where love is not illusion based/And fear is just a word they can define.”

The music soars around you, and you are running faster and faster, tears streaming down your cheeks, until you suddenly stop and slam your fist against the padded pole. It feels good, so you do it again, before sinking into the cold, wet sand.

Who am I? you ask yourself.

And you realize that that is your largest problem. You have forgotten who you are. You’ve forgotten what and who you love. You have forgotten where you came from and where you are going. You’ve sacrificed yourself for people who didn’t care enough to sacrifice themselves for you.

You’ve become a people pleaser, trying to make everyone in your life happy except yourself. You wrestle with that a moment, but discover that your biggest problem is that you are only happy when you are making others happy. However, you’ve done nothing but cause hurt and pain and suffering to everyone you love.

“You’re a terrible person,” you scream to yourself. You can never be good enough.

The thoughts start to swirl around again, and you realize that for all you have done and no matter how hard you have worked to get here, you’re on equal footing with people who didn’t work half as hard but are a million times richer than you. Your best friend owns a forest and a mountain, for crying out loud.

And then it hits you.

None of these people can be called your best friend. They will all find someone better, moving on, and even the closest among them will betray you if they think it to be in their own self-interest.

The package you’re wrapping for her birthday, including the object you’d had specially made for her back in August…the object that you had brought all the way to college with the intention of mailing in time for her birthday…

You realize that this must have sparked this sudden need to get away. To be outside. To run and run and run and scream for all you’ve lost.

You lie there a moment in the sand contemplating this, then you stand up and leave the court, still barefoot. You walk across campus, and when you check your phone, it’s 1 am, and you have 10% remaining. But it’s too cold for people to be loitering, so you feel safe enough by yourself.

You walk to the center of the commons and stare at the sky, where the full moon is making its nightly trek across the universe. In the distance you think you spy Orion’s belt, and it brings back countless memories of your home back in the rural city.

It reminds you of the World Between Worlds and its fallen Empress. You haven’t seen her in weeks.

Why do you care so much for something imaginary? you ask yourself. 

Because it’s all you have, you reply.

Your heart squeezes, and you close your eyes tightly before picking up your shoes and heading back to your dorm.