The rain beats itself against my window as I lay in my bed in the dark. The heavy sheets, my protection against the cold. I wish life had a safety blanket. For some, it does...the hard taste of alcohol or the wild heat of sex. We all have our coping mechanisms. What's mine?
No offense to the Big Guy, but these days, I'm looking for something a bit more...tangible.
More than ever, I'm wishing for a beach. I miss the Sun on my face. I feel...as though I am missing something. I ask God if I am slipping into depression. I've been here before. My apartment is a mess. My mother would shame me if she surprised me with a visit.
I'm starting to feel less and less of a connection to the people around me.
I have a business to run. I have projects, deadlines...I don't really care.
I feel like a shell of myself. People tell me about their problems and I listen and I give out inspiration. That is who I am. Most of the time, they neither ask nor care about how I am. Everyone wants something from me it feels like.
I have nothing.
Sometimes, it's not their fault, really. I'm like a clam. My feelings are my pearls. I open up when the time is right.
I am the Master Manipulator...my bubbly demeanor masking my issues. It's in my eyes.
I feel like I am a mess. People don't see it. Am I that good at faking it?
In 2006, BFF was failing school, her relationship was falling apart. She maxed out a credit card and went to Atlanta. I don't have that luxury. If I did, I'd go to Bermuda - to St. John Smith's Bay - my favorite beach. It has pink sand and a cave. I would live on the beach.
My passport expired so the next best thing would be South Beach, Miami. It smelled so divine! I was so relaxed there. It was so dangerous because I wasn't on alert like how I am here. I never looked over my shoulder, never blinked twice about being on the beach at midnight not being able to see in front of me. I just remember my sun tan lotion and the blue beach umbrella. Heaven.
It is impossible to be sad at the beach.
Who can I be vulnerable with enough to tell them how I feel and trust they will really care?
I guess I have to shake it off soon. I don't want rodents and my assistant (who's had since Friday off) will be in on Thursday. Plus, really...I have to have a damn good explanation for needing to borrow $400 for a plane ticket to paradise.
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