Teardrops were blurring the words on paper. Still he scribbled furiously. He was tired of keeping all of this inside.
He let the ink describe his pain and frustration. He couldn’t say them, so he would write them.

He had become such a good actor that the lie was now his reality. Pretending was the only way he knew how to live. They say your family would always care for you no matter what.
Ha! What a load of crap!!
His family only cared about country club gossip or how the fiscal year was going to end.
He looked around him. The waves crashing against the shore, the turbulent sea matching what he felt inside. His inner turmoil had been transformed into words.
Now, he could let go.
He rolled the parchment up, put it in an empty gin bottle and corked it tight.
Walking to the shore, he took a deep breath, swung his arm back and threw the bottle as far as he could.

He had found happiness, but he hadn’t been to able to look past the pain.
Now the the sea was taking it away for good. Finally, he could breath again.