"you belong to me, not swallowed in the sea"

Thirty and Broke

When it gets really bad. Like blackout bad.

Like Lock-up-pills bad. I look at beach houses 

For sale online (everyone needs some good self-

Torture). I want to be bought and to buy one.

I imagine myself. In front lead glassed sun room.

The floors full of sand. And a small place. My own 

Place. I never belonged anywhere. To anyone.

Married (for goddamn christ sake), but I still don’t feel him.

My heart has closed until I find my own way.

And guilt. And fear. And devastated. Because I’m 

Not his little girl, and never was. 

So I dream of that beach. A heavy ocean.

Take me away or set me tall. Just do something

To me. I whisper to him, and to life, and to salt-water.

It all means so much. I see it means, but I…

I keep house, keep home. This little shell I resent.

It keeps me here, just like my skin and sick brain.

Just like my swollen joints. I swell up, shell up, until I 

Break up. And this year I saw it. My own life.

It terrified me. Terrifies me. I cry for it. I would kill for it.

I don’t move. I don’t do. 

I just look at the beach house.


  1. This is written so beautifully. <3

    1. Aww thanks Caitlin! I hate writing but love it too, it is such an emotional process for me, it's exhausting. But I know it is what I need to do. No matter what.

      Love, C


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