The Zephyr's Peculiar Sway.

I miss Florida. The weather was absolutely amazing and watching the sunset while the salty sea breeze was tickling the back of your neck was soothing. I don’t think that I have ever been more relaxed. Now, things are different. It has only been a few years since I was in Florida. But, a lot has changed. I am not healthy anymore. My young body is weak and fragile. It could break at any moment. I have been spending a lot of time in hospitals lately. They know me well there now. The hospital is my second home. I hate hospitals. It’s funny. I hate my own home as well.

Back to Florida. I’ve only seen the Atlantic Ocean twice in my life. The ocean is beautiful. So calm and peaceful. The moon’s ice crystals dancing over the sea. Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. There is just something about the zephyrs, the sand beneath your feet, and the scorching sun kissing your skin. There is just something about it all. A good something. The kind of something that is comforting and homey. The kind of something that you don’t experience too many times in your life. It’s a beautiful feeling.

‘Floridians’ don’t know how well they have it. Florida is where America goes to die. Half of the population driving on the streets can barely see over the steering wheel. When you pass a vehicle, all you see is a white puff of synthetic hair and beady little pupils peering through telescope eyeglasses. The other half of the population is trying to run the others off of the road. Drag races. Road rage. Show-offs. Fast cars. New engines. Horsepower. Sex. Booze. Death. The machine operating youth are angry. They plow through the streets nearly destroying everything in their paths. They act like they have a place to go, people to see, things to do. But we all know the truth. We’re all headed in the same direction, but we all deny that we’re in the same boat. They are eagerly waiting for that retirement check, just like the rest. They are waiting for relief; weight to be lifted off of their shoulders. We all wait for the same check.

Back to hospitals. I’ve been in and out of hospitals for the past two and a half years. Surgery after surgery. Heart problems and misdiagnosed illnesses. Near death experiences. Surviving. Hospitals are dirty places. The employees are only paid to care for you. They don’t really care. But, they are great actors though. Don’t let them fool you. A paycheck every two weeks makes everyone believe that they care. Saving a life and caring for someone are two completely different actions. Sometimes they are the same thing...

Luckily, I suppose, every nurse and doctor I’ve ever had has treated me kindly. But they never really cared. They are paid to do what they do. The nurse preps, the doctor gives you a diagnosis and a few months to live, and maybe two weeks of prescription drugs to take your mind somewhere else. After that, the hospital still doesn’t care. As longs as you’re a paying (dying) customer, they don’t care.

Jump to Florida again. When I think of Florida, when I remember anything, my mind becomes a factory. My mind is a factory. Every time I recall a moment in time, the wheels turn and the chemical sludge flows. The smoke stacks pump away the mass-produced memories, which pollute my mind. I am constantly polluting myself. Now, I will always be polluted. Smog wakes me up in the morning. Maybe I don’t miss Florida after all...

(I'm a pretty weird artist and the picture up at the top is a manipulation of a photo I took when I was in Florida.)