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Miami, Miami.

Stop me if you’ve heard this one before.

First time I believed in Miami, is the first time I believed in the sun. The warmth and comfort of a hug from the light and heat of the big bright yellow sun. It had been years since I paid attention to the sun. Since the rains and storms stopped and something inside of me craved the harsh reality of sunny days and sunshine. I hated the sun. Forcing myself to conceal my skin behind layers of clothing and retreating inside while people came alive in the sun. The sun and the sunshine weren’t for me. Any trace of the sun left me long ago and left me with the pale remembrance of spring through summer. But Miami opened itself to me in a warm familiar hug. It embraced my flaws and comforted me after the storm of my life and reassured me that it would be okay. Will it ever be okay?

Whoever I was then, I can’t ever be again.

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Forgiving, forgetting, and the art of leaving. Beneath the palm trees and the big bright yellow sun. Mesmerized by the whites of the sand and the big blue sea, I could get lost here forever. Drink after drink, night after night, lost. It was the art of letting go and leaving that catapulted the journey to the sandy white beaches of South Beach. It was the art of forgiving that brought me to the streets of Miami. But forgetting, where do I forget? Where do I lose sight of the realities amongst the sun drenched streets and picture perfect perfection? Perhaps, another drink. Another drink to forget and be swallowed whole by the sun and lost in the shade under the palm trees. This was my forgiving, this was my forgetting and this was my leaving.

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I didn’t think about you and I didn’t think about me. I didn’t think about much of anything. Dancing the night away under the stars and hearing the roaring sounds of the ocean hitting the sands. I could have kissed a hundred boys under the street lights of that city. I could have. Maybe I did, honestly I can’t remember. All I know is when the morning sun woke, I was clean. You forget who you are when you’re in the sun. You forget that your past is left in the dark to it’s own demise. At least that’s what I thought. The light and the warmth of the sun, the sands of the beaches and their beautiful swaying palm trees, why would anyone want to remember the past? I can still feel it. I can still hear it. I can still see it. Everything. The light, the sounds, and this notion that I found this escape from reality if only for a short time.

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There was no one else. Nothing that made me crave the sun as much as I felt it in Miami. No place better to forget then running away the picture perfect sights of South Beach. The street lights bright as the sun and the sun warmer than I could remember. I just need that escape. That one last time to forget it all. That one last drink to solve all my problems. All of it. Every single damn one of it.

Miami, Please take me back.

The comfort in there’s no one else.

 

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A little back and forth lately.

I’ve been thinking about the ocean lately. Not in the classic summer way where thinking of beaches and warmer weather would make sense in this cold weather. But thinking of sand, water, and freezing cold temperatures. I miss the sounds of the ocean that I can’t hear from a bridge or from a window of an airplane. I miss digging my feet into the sand and staring off into the distance. I miss living near large masses of water. Water that I can see and touch whenever I feel like it. I am totally weird. Only a crazy person would think of the ocean when it’s freezing.

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In a way thinking of the ocean is just my way of wanting an escape. Wishing that people felt that way too. I get so consumed with other peoples ideas that I start to believe that they’re my own thoughts. Its been a while since I found people to connect with, people that are adventurous and not afraid of change. People that don’t want to go to the same boring places and actually want to venture out in different directions. We are so consumed with familiarity that going anywhere else seems like a hassle. I hate routine and I hate having to go to the same places because people are afraid of getting out of their comfort zone. I blame my area, I blame the central valley, most of all I blame people afraid of change. Then again I blame myself for not having the courage to venture off on my own. I could do it on my own, but like everyone else I too am afraid of a little change.

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To be honest with myself, I have to be honest with everyone else. I am scared. I am self-conscious. I am a lot of things in between. It’s so easy to want change from others but why is it often hard to seek change in ourselves. I want adventures, I want to experience new things, but I also want others to feel the same way too. It could just be the simple minded surroundings of my areas. Everyone’s lazy attempts at life, but at times I am no different. I want the ocean but I don’t want the journey that goes with seeing the ocean. I want the world to bend over backwards for me, but I can’t even lift a finger when the universe asks me to. I want the rain, but I settle for the drought. I want, I want, and I want, but I can’t seem to get myself started. I know to change things within ourselves we have to start small. Small victories before feeling victorious. I just can’t help but expect this huge change to start happening now. I am impatient for big changes and not realizing small changes are victories too.

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I want to get to the ocean before the weather starts getting warmer. I want to place my feet in the freezing cold waters and feel whole again. I want the ocean because somewhere deep inside I need the change. I need a change in scenery. Maybe today, maybe tomorrow, all I know is that it will happen someday soon.