So on Jan. 1, I sat on a blanket at Smathers Beach and did nothing but snap photos of the sunset for 20 minutes. There’s a reason they call Key West the “Home of the Sunset.” Spectacular.
I’m aimless these days. Working is overrated. So is pretty much everything else. I just want to curl up and sleep for a week or two. Or keep watching “Ghost Whisperer” marathons, interrupted by the occasional Oprah episode where she hosts Bon Jovi or reveals her secret sibling.
My purpose is out there. Hell, it’s right in front of me. And I can’t stare it straight in the face. I can’t bear to be disappointed again. Not that I have much choice, mind you. None of us does.
I just never thought I’d be this tired at 36.