by the sea and sand

Thirty yards off the shoreline. The sun's glow reflected on the dark sand. I feel that mild sting of salt water in my eyes. Six twenty-seven in the morning, or so my internal clock tells me. Slept on a hammock, dawn woke me up. Sunday morning. Sunday mourning. I mourn for no one but myself.

Last night, many songs were played, many people were met. Last night, I felt alive. Today, I'm not so sure anymore. It's not a lack of sleep, water or food. It's not excess nicotine either. It's a feeling of emptiness that has been around for too long.

Yoga on the beach. People running. Good morning sun, here I am. May your warmth bring life back to me. Yesterday was Velentine's day for some. Yesterday a couple found love somewhere. Twenty others lost it and millions thought what they had would last forever. Even that illusion would have made me happy. At least for a day... or maybe two.

Sorry. You don't need to drink to be hung-over.