i get home and ride bikes and it's hot outside and i pedal and pedal and pedal and come home too tired to do anything but rot on the couch. i walk outside and pace and the anxiety builds up in my chest and i tie a raft to the dock and jump in the water and lay down, spinning in tiny dizzy circles. my fingertips graze the water and the sun is back and forth and i swim until my legs hurt and my mouth is full of salt. i think, salt is the cure for everything - sweat tears and the ocean.

by the afternoon i am edgy and wondering why i am so angry. i am on edge, my brother opens too many doors, the dog is going to get out, the sky is split with lightning and doesn't he fucking know the dog bolts when he gets scared.

at night i cry a lot and walk and hold hands and see shooting stars and feel desperately, unpoetically alone. i am home but not in my city. not with my friends. the phone rings and i shouldn't answer it, but i do, then i say i shouldn't have picked this up, i don't want to talk, and hang up.

i drive to the keys and it's so fucking beautiful it makes my head spin. i have no words and see the milky way at night and read books and we have millions of dollars and three houses and five cars and five flatscreen tvs and my dad doesn't have to work anymore and i'm finally starting to be able to talk to him and i go to therapy instead of writing and i have so many words inside me sometimes it hurts and i didn't feel like myself for so long, and i am finally starting to come out from this, to kickstart out. we talk about cars and spain and warm weather, he says i can really see the sparkle coming out of you. i am finally starting to love life again and it feels so good but i can't get it into words so now i am trying.

i am trying to do so much right now.


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