The sand (Are you happy?)

The sand sticks to my white skin. In my nostrils.
On my lips, in my lips, in my inactive mouth. In my useless mouth.
Sand. Waves come and go before my eyes, black and white under the warm moon, smelly like seaweed, sensual jellyfish, dead fish, like a song i wish i could sing.
Waves come and go inside my body, inside my head, sleeping on the wet sand, white seaweed and white wine, my eyes roll as the waves die on the sand.
I feel good. I know it is extremely rare, but i am happy.
I ate lobsters for the first time. I don’t need to talk for the first time.
Emily and Kev talk together, they talk to me in a way to let me know i have the right to stay quiet. If i don’t reply, it’s not because i have nothing to say.
It’s just that they seem to understand already what i think and they respect this side of my personnality. Like if being quiet was a part of my personnality. Already.
So instead of talking i drink white wine.
They said REVOLUTION and i felt like something was possible.
I felt like they were talking about me. I am nineteen years old.
I drink some white wine because i feel safe with them. I feel safe. I drank myself.
I am the white. I am the waves. I am the sand.
My head start to turn slowly. I don’t know if it is because of the wine, or if i’m just happy.
They could answer me. But i wouldn’t listen. I am happy.
I can’t move anymore, so i don’t move.
I look at the sea and the waves entering my open mouth.
Like an whole life in a day.
If each life is included in each day, i think i lived a beautiful life.
I lived a beautiful day.