Fishing at two am is something I don't recommend. Especially at the ocean.
Instead of actually fishing, I laid on the pier, staring up at the ceiling of earth. All I could think was:
Those stars I see aren't actually there anymore. Light is so slow. Or maybe I'm just the slow one.
I haven't slept for 20 hours, and I stink of the ocean. I'm too tired for this.
YOU ARE READING
A Letter To Someone Who Can't Be Special Anymore
Non-FictionJust some of my daily thoughts, feelings, and activities. You'll notice that I think more than I speak.
