Beach

I went to the beach once by myself. It was a trip. A trip to meet girls. To find some hot beach bikini girls and have fun. The party I don't remember is whether or not I was in a relationship at the time. I remember stopping at a hotel because I was tired. I remember watching boxing on HBO. It was feather weight boxing.

I'd never seen such tiny guys box before. They were dodging and hitting in a very defensive manner. Their very life depended on how well they could move. They had to punch when they had the opportunity and constantly move around. They bounced and weaved. They kept it simple, but they had flair and style that were unmatched by the heavy weights. The heavy weights just punch and punch and punch. They protect their face to keep fighting, but it comes down to who can take the most hits.

I remember not finding any girls. Just a huge amount of bicyclists that had just raced from Portland for some cause. I was still alone, surrounded by thousands of people. I rarely remember anything about moments, until way too late. Then my mind is completely vivid. Totally focused. But it is constantly lost. It is surrounded by doubt and self hate. I'm not sure that I could be anything else.

And that is my quandary. I am trying to be a feather weight, but I am a heavy weight. I hit and hit and hit. I punch and punch and punch. I take all my efforts and run them into the ground. I don't know when to quit. I just go after something until it is dead. Until I am buried in blows. Until I have so much bruising I lose all idea of direction. I unload everything I have in the beginning and find myself searching for anything at all to hold on to.

I searched up and down the coast to find a room. They were all taken. They were all filled with cyclists. I didn't plan ahead. I just went. I just showed up. I gave it everything. All my money. All my planning. All my selfishness.

She seemed so different.

But at the beach. I felt alone.

There are people everywhere. And I feel alone.