some things

here are some things. By now, I practically look normal when walking uphill. It's more difficult than one might think. Looking normal, not walking. How do women carry coolers on their heads? How do they carry open sided boxes of twenty, horizontal bottles of coke? There are so many beautiful men here. Are my lungs turning black from exhaust fumes? Will the muscles in my shoulders ever relax again? The devil is real.

And then, here is me.

I feel an unincapsulated freedom here. I lack self awareness. Or, self consciousness, I suppose.

There aren't social stigmas to adhere to, or at least I don't know about them.  and no one to compare me with. (compare myself to)

It's funny and liberating and I feel an inward ease. Like the feeling when you fall asleep in the hot sun on the beach. You're baking and sweat drips down your face to where your cheek meets the towel and disappears into the fibers. into the sand. you've had a corona, maybe two, and definitely three cups of coffee. woozy from fighting the waves, sun drenched, and salty, you're reading- but you can't stay awake.

When  you wake up, everyone has gone in. The sun is receding, and the wind is cold. You try and pull the last rays under your skin. How did it get cold? your skin is hot to the touch, and you feel beautiful.

You will, of course, go inside to look in the mirror, and find your hair matted and sticking in incomprehensible angles. the golden gleam you had thought would have coated your skin is a vivid and splotchy strawberry red. your swimsuit is covered in sand. You have drool stains on your cheek, and the imprint of your towel on your head. It's not dinner time yet, so you make a coffee, try and regain your senses, throw on some dry clothes, and plop down in a chair on the deck.

the wind has subsided, off the waves, and you reclaim the sun. if you close your eyes, it's there again. everything is beautiful. your hair is golden in the sun. the backs of your eyelids are pleasant and pink. The rush and roll of the waves is comforting. You can hear laughter, and smell the sea.

And in this place?

In this place-you can finally leave yourself. where you should be. small, and insignificant. In this place-outside of yourself-here, is what matters.

Creation. And you're a part of it.