The ocean was ceaseless and crashing. My brain was clear and unfettered with the concerns of others. I didn’t expect to live a fantastic life as an artist. To pay the bills seemed fantastic enough. I just wanted to be in a better place than I was when I wasn’t writing. If I just looked at everything a little differently, if I fully accepted the artist within me, if I leaned into my eccentricities, if I saw all the colors in their most vivid fashion, if I embraced the kaleidoscope at last, I could be there. It meant taking a step away from a normal life, but hadn’t I already moved too far away
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