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I am so alone today. But not lonely.

This morning my parents fled across the border, to Progreso, ostensibly going in search of prescription medication but actually going to get drunk off their asses. I'm okay with that. I've been wandering around the house all day, naked, wondering at the silence and stillness and light amidst the cacaphony of police sirens and raucous coeds (I live near sunny South Padre Island, notorious for its festive Spring Break sessions).

It's been a long time since I've been my own company. For the past few months my weekends have been occupied with my boyfriend, dinner parties, and excursions with the family. I remember delighting in being told to "go to your room!" after committing a familial transgression. I'm still quite socially awkward, faltering with eye contact and the personal revelation. But now it is strange to find myself staring vacantly at the TV, looking hazily out at the mist enveloping our beach house. Trying to read ( Nabokov) and study (U.S. History). Trying to find myself again. Trying on my black prom dress, watching it float diaphanous against the breeze.

I think what I've realized is that most of my diversion is really an opiate, heightening my senses while dulling my self-perception. I must come back to myself, learn who I am without the sedation of books and movies and games. I must enjoy my own company again.