Another day alone on the beach. A long, long day. Alone alone alone. I go into the ocean to cool off and by the time I get to my towel I'm hot again. Sure I have books, an ipod, but mostly it's just me.
Ali and I spend a lot of time together but lately we've been doing our own thing.
This is good, if only for our mentals.
Still, it's me and my head.
Paranoia, anxiety, longing.
This is what happens when I'm alone:
I wonder if the heat is affecting my brain. I'm not sure if I've mentioned the heat;
it's unbearable. It's insanely hot.
The pools are warm, the ocean is warm, and the air is hot.
Like wet hot.
There's no wrapping of a sweater around your shoulders at night. I don't even use a towel when I get out of the water.
There are 3 kinds of places you can stay when travelling the beaches of Thailand. There are the straw bungalows for backpackers which cost about $10 per night. These are huts with no a/c, maybe a fan, maybe a shower, a mattress and a mosquito net. Backpackers spend most of their time outdoors smoking the pot and dreading each others pubes, so mostly they just need a place to pass out.
Then there are the uber expensive places that are cheap by American standards but too much for us, who have been gone for a month. These places are reserved for couples and squares and families and normies and people who do yoga.
Last we have the midrange, the working class of the hotel status. This is where we stay, where the booze runneth over and the girls have gone wild. This would be awesome for us if it were 1997, back when we were young and dumb and totally fucking perfect.
It's been a tough day.
I can feel us bottoming out, counting down the days.
We started reading each others minds weeks ago,
which I always thought would be kind of cool.
This just in: it's not.