Clouds cracked. Rain stopped. Closed my eyes and inhaled the perfume of salt-tinged air in the romantic early evening light. Opened my eyes and stared at the ocean. 

Feeling like I finally stood up on a surf board and caught the wave — fleeting bliss — only to lose my balance and crack my head on a rock. Blood soaked my eyes and everything was painted red. 

Life is a constant rug pull. Things are good then they’re not.

Living in a permanent state of impermanence. Every bit of confidence meant to be shattered. Every friend I made, every girl I kissed, every bit of joy — meant to be lost. Meant to be a memory. Something to think about lying drunk on my floor off aldi wine. If I was lucky enough I’d have some photos or some songs or something that could make me smile in nostalgia the next time things got bad.

I used to lie there in the sand on my little beach towel, staring at the sky feeling so lost. I’d just lay there and drink wine and listen to music and erode into the sand and fall asleep. I was so fucking lost. Wake up sweaty and sandy and recollect and go home and order wingstop on DoorDash. 

Right now I’m at an oceanfront suite looking down at the water. The sun is starting to fade. It has this magenta color. Drinking a beer from the hotel fridge it’s probably twenty bucks and I don’t give a fuck. It’s all so crazy to me. Life feels like a dream. I still get nostalgic for the worst times of my life. 

But for the first time I can reconcile with the fact that the past is over.

I have fucked up more than anyone. Four or five years ago or whatever it is now I felt like the biggest loser on earth. I didn’t want to do anything or go anywhere I just wanted to dissolve. I felt that way for a long time. Now it’s different. I want everything. I have so much time and money I can do anything. I feel like I am the luckiest man on earth. I used to look at the sun feeling so fucking lost.

Now I’m staring at the sky and feeling home.