Wave of Sorrow

It hits out of nowhere —

that wave of sorrow.

One minute I’m fine,

the next I’m drowning in feelings

I didn’t ask for.

I don’t even know what triggers it.

A memory.

A song.

A thought I didn’t catch in time.

Sometimes it’s nothing at all.

All I know is that it comes fast,

cold and heavy,

like the ocean pulling me under

before I can take a breath.

And I hate that I can’t control it.

I hate that something so old,

or so small,

or so invisible

can still crash over me

and leave me standing there soaked in sadness

for reasons I can’t explain.

But the wave always passes.

It always does.

Even if it leaves me tired,

or quiet,

or a little more worn down than before.

And when it does,

I remind myself

that surviving the tide

still counts as strength.