sun

8/30/2015 – Day Sixteen.

Its weird to think that being in a different environment could change your feelings. Even a slight change in the weather, could change a mood you’re feeling. I never go running toward sun, I am seldom ever outside. Its never the light I crave to make me feel better. I love feelings of seasons that ache at your bones, that cut to the core. I love hearing thunder and lightening roll into one chaotic storm. I love feeling every inch of the rain, placed delicately then chaotically onto my skin. Pulling layers over me and finding comfort in the warmth that no longer harbors on the outside. Going to places that are not drenched with the sun. Where I don’t feel so exposed. I’ve expressed my love for the rain countless times, sometimes its the rain that surprises you with its love. Finding myself being stuck in a downpour that followed up with hail, seemed completely beautiful to me.

When your state is plagued with drought, you miss the rain. Storms, sprinkles, drizzling into gloomy weather, everything. This beautiful country can go through seasons in the matter of hours. It’s the rain storms that make me feel more at home. I love how the streets fill with water and glisten under the street lights. How the sounds of water hitting every inch of  pavement and knowing you never stood a chance against the storm. How jaded you felt walking the streets. As the sun mocked and hid behind the clouds, playing peek a boo with the sky. Hiding its joyful rays behind overcast shades and gray skies. It reminds me of home. It reminds me of San Francisco with it’s bipolar weather changes. It reminds me of seasons yet to come forth toward the upcoming months.

I love it here.

How weather doesn’t change from fall to summer. I watch myself fall even more in love with the weather. How could you possibly be upset with that? That something magically beautiful and pure like the rain could ever make you upset. I watch lights flicker and drown with the sounds of the storm and wonder how long until this passes. All storms ever do is pass and leave you to clean up the mess. It doesn’t hurt when I am here, it doesn’t hurt to be here as the storm continues. I watch people run for cover and shield themselves from every inch of this beautiful rain. I can’t help but at times feel like this storm. I am the storm that screams and cries to reach out to someone. People scatter and run for cover until the sun comes out and welcomes them out again. All I want is for people to listen and stretch their arms out to me, but they remain scared and afraid of what comes after. I can’t avoid the weather. I can seek shelter but no matter how much I shield myself the storm still follows. The storm guarding the sun from the mess it makes while its away. I watch as my storms turn to hurricanes, while the sun is away. I am okay, I will be okay. I am not the one to soak up the sun, when all I want is to dance in the rain.

 

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8/17/2015 – Day Nine.

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Hello darkness, my old friend.

Darkness follows me like an old friend. Which is why I have no problem writing about it. Writing about the night skies and their equally dark rooms. When you spend a lot of time in dark rooms, you start having a deeper appreciation of low light and shadows. It’s a calming feeling in being alone with your thoughts. It’s when you open your heart to the shadows, and remind yourself of how much you have left of your journey. At this point I am not sure if my journey is beginning or ending. Or maybe I am still in the middle of this fork in the road, wondering which way to turn.

Its sitting in the dark that I wonder about many things. I replay thousands of conversations in my head. I go back and look at thousands of photographs and I can’t help but wonder. There are times I think I am being vocal about how I am feeling and reality is I am just hiding from the world. I seek comfort in this darkness that knows all my secrets. That hides my tears, sadness, and every inch of pain I am feeling. I am doing everything wrong and I know what I am doing. But hiding in this darkness keeps me from seeing everything that happens in the light. Maybe I am better off that way. Better off hiding from the world and the people that surround it. I am not doing anyone any favors and at this point I feel like the worst person in the world. When you think all your doing is being a hero and reality is you’ve always been the villain in disguise.

Lately I just want to cry about everything and hide from everyone. Hide in the shadows no matter how many times people ask me to play. It takes a big city full of millions of people to make your heart beat faster. To make yourself feel even more alone. You rely on the dark skies to bring you home. When it rains it pours, it brings out the clean slate you desperately scrub clean. I don’t have problem being alone but I hate feeling alone. Maybe it’s the sadness that makes you lonely. That has you looking out windows and praying for rain. Praying for something to take away all this pain. Surrounded by people you can’t help but wish they could bump right next to you and help you feel something, anything. Instead you avoid their glances and calculate your moves away from them. Maybe I am wrong. Maybe being alone is an overdramatic cry for help and settling is what I should be doing. Maybe I have gone through life doing things wrong and one day I’ll figure out how to fix this mess. Who knows. I just can’t help that when the sunsets enough, I am left in the dark. Others have found out how to turn the lights on but I am still adjusting to the lack of sun.

 

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.