I certainly hope that this letter will find you. That you are OK, that you haven’t drowned, weren’t raped, weren’t killed and that you at some point got back your sanity.
Late saturday night Artist and I decided that a walk on the beach would be good. So, with the green fairy in hand we missioned down to the beach. We didn’t wander very far, and found the perfect spot to sit down and have a good chat. At some point you came running down the beach. You didn’t even notice the two of us. My first reaction was one of surprise since you were wearing rather expensive looking boots and fancy pants clothing. Then all of a sudden, you turned and rain straight into the water.
We yelled, but you didn’t respond. Then, after a couple of minutes you wandered to more shallow water. And then you just fell over with you face flat in the water and the sand. Artist and i made a mad dash, but then you sat up, and we stopped. Watching you, fearing for you. You were breaking my heart. You were definitely on a bad trip, you were all alone and you were uncontrolable.
Then, as we moved ever so slowly closer to you, not wanting to frighten you, you jumped up and dashed down the beach. We turned and ran too, but before our very eyes you disappeared into the darkness ahead. And as the sound of your footfalls slowly quieted down, despair grabbed at our hearts.
You were gone, we didn’t have a flashlight, we were only two, the beach area is vast and we had no idea where to even begin looking. We finally gave up after about an hour of running, searching and shouting and headed back to the flat. There was no car in the parking lot, and we had no idea how on earth you even got to the beach.
Luckily I have a friend who works for the SAPD in Durban. He didn’t mind being woken up at 1 in the morning(thank goodness) and they sent out a couple of guys to comb the beach. There was no sign of you…and by sunrise they finally gave up.
It’s so sad to think how lonely you must be. How bad the trip was, and that you were just left there alone. I feel bad for not helping you. I feel responsible, and if ever i had to find out that you died that night…i don’t think i’ll ever be able to forgive myself. Poor artist had his hands full trying to convince me that there wasn’t much more that could be done. I still don’t believe him. There must have been something that we could have done to stop you.
If you ever get this letter, please let me know you’re OK. I think this will haunt me for a long time. The feeling of helplessness and the knowledge that you must have given up on hope and on life is breaking my heart. I’ll say a little prayer for you, and I’ll beg God to keep you safe, to give you hope and to give you the ability to find love again. That is, if it isn’t too late already.