alexisnotafish
we were fighting and i didn't know why. joan didion once wrote about how her fights with her mother left them both as "veterans of a guerilla warfare they never understood." now i understood. all i knew was that this fight would not end well for anyone. there was silence all around, and the fog from the bay drifted in through the windows and stifled our voices, stifled our conversation, stifled us. the wildfire of our feud raged on across the hills.
his shoulders were back, his body straight and rigid, as though a tight line was strung vertically through it. he threw his hand towards his face, serious and obedient.
"sir. yes, sir."
the sun has never been too appealing to me. i tend to find the nearest patch of grass or shade and park there for the extent of my time at any given beach.
don't get me wrong, i love the beach on a cool day, with a sweatshirt and the wind whipping my hair around, but otherwise... the word "overrated" comes to mind.
writing since 2010 · 5 entries · 5 days shown up
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