Nothing.

I hadn't slept.
I packed my bag.
A sheet, sunscreen,
a water bottle,
and headphones.
That was all I needed.
Simple.

I couldn't look at myself.
Hungover.
I locked the door.
I slid the key under the mat.
Longing.

It was 4:30am.
That didn't matter.
The road was empty.
So was I.

I played the same song.
It had no words.
For three hours.
Its a minute and a half long.
It was the only thing,
that made sense.
Nothing.

I don't remember driving.
I wasn't in my body.
I stopped when the land did.
Gone.

I walked and watched.
Lovers walking and holding hands.
Devastated.

I laid my sheet down.
I stared at the sea.
For three more hours.
I walked in the ocean.
Cold.

I burned.
The waves crashed.
But still I felt nothing.
And it felt like home.
So far away.
800 miles.

Life is so fucked up.
Love is so fucked up.
Yet here I am.
Living.
Alive.

And i feel nothing.