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as the leaves change

i had a dream once that i was drowning.

fears that i've never had about the ocean manifested themselves into a vivid, realistic dream. i was out in the deep part of the water--out where you can't see the floor of the ocean and the shore seems to have vanished. the only thing i could see were these massive whales. they didn't seem majestic and beautiful, they seemed giant and terrifying--like they could accidentally knock me unconscious without even noticing. there was nowhere to turn for refuge. and worse, there was no hope of anywhere to find it. i just felt seized with panic, paralyzed by fear.

sometimes that's how i feel about my life right now. i look around at my friends, my family situation, the place i live, and i'm just confused. i feel like this is a dream, like one day i will wake up and be back in florida with my family, with my dad, with my sister. i'll wake up in my bedroom with half blue walls and walk into the kitchen that we remodeled and burn toast for breakfast. i'll go play soccer on the green fields with the humid breeze swirling around me. i'll be carefree and happy, naive to the cruel reality of life, of death, of loss. i'll brush off this strange dream that i have where my mom is married to a new husband who has his own children [i think they're called…step-siblings?]. i'll never remember the emptiness and the loneliness that  i've known here. ill have a new appreciation for my floridian life and all that it represents. i'll climb the avocado tree, rollerblade down the cracked sidewalks, play our old ivory keyed piano.

the hardest part about change is holding onto yourself. i feel like i had a groove in florida--things i did for fun, coping mechanisms when i was stressed, outlets for happiness. i haven't found those here. not yet. i'm just stranded in the ocean, hoping to dodge these deadly whales. 

my parents, before i was born

[title from a drop in the ocean by ron pope]

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