My family and I went to Sanibel, and it was this beautiful, secret little work we lived in for the week. The sand was white and the water sparkled like diamonds. I woke up everyday to a perfectly blue sky and the smell of salty air. My hair got lighter, my skin got tanner, and the cynical side of me faded away with the clouds. I let the wind blow my bones back together so I could walk straighter and hold my head higher. I absolutely love the beach, and the feeling of the salt water leaving my hair crispy and my skin tight; I really loved washing my hair with the complimentary coconut shampoo. I wish I could stay in our tiny house on the beach forever.

But without a doubt, my thorn was the sunsets. I’ve weirdly always hated sunsets. It makes me feel like I'm the man in the painting Scream. The swirling red and orange sky makes my head spin. While everyone snaps a picture I’m left to my own devices as my mind explodes into chaos.

Most times I can ignore it, but this time, on this beautiful trip, I felt overwhelmed and nervous. My parents yelled at me for missing the family pictures, but I couldn't even bring myself to care because I would retreat back to the house to let myself be comforted by the hot water in the shower. There were no windows in the bathroom which means no chance of the sunset peeking through. Although once Ive seen it I cant shake the nervousness out of my head. It stays with me until the sun pokes its head out from the sea and shimmers in the reflection of my eyes.

I love the sunrise, maybe because it signals a new beginning. But something about the idea of a sunset makes me want to cry. It’s probably a combination of a bunch of things- like the day ending or the inevitable feeling of horror it plants in my mind. It it makes me feel like I’m dying. It’s partly because of that one moment where the sky is dark blue (not black yet), and the red from the sunset still lingers, when I feel like I’m drowning in the darkness.