Solitude feels like an uninvited guest. She's this big ol' annoying pest that's hard to shake as she stomps through my head with her loud-ass megaphone blasting my each and every thought with a deafening echo as a constant reminder of my mindset. "I'm bored". "I'm lonely". "I'd rather be in NYC".
My fresh blowout went wild with the wind as I gazed from behind my sunglasses at the technicolor turquoise water. I was mesmerized by the wake behind the boat which reminded me of elaborate Busby Berkeley choreography and the ever-changing kaleidoscope of memories that trailed behind me like bygone eras.
I never told my therapist about my botched attempt at lesbianism. I didn’t want her to think I was crazy. Instead, I devoted a complete session to divulging the details of my relationship with Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson. Dwayne might not have known the exact depth of our relationship but I was fully devoted to my crush as it served as a giddy escape from my current reality.
