I'm currently packing, and not being able to find a specific dress that I want to take with me.

That's a problem.

I slide open my closet, browsing through all the hangers inside.

I look above the hangers and noticed the wooden shelf with a plethora of boxes filled with clothes, I take all of them down and bring one of them forward.

I slide it in front of me, reaching for a box cutter from the shelf and cutting the tape in between the flaps of the thick brown cardboard.

I find multiple diaries stacked onto one another, a dark blue backpack and a few letters.

This is all shit from high school.

I'm getting distracted. I should be packing right now.

What do you even wear in Italy?

I close the cardboard box, putting more tape over the gap and putting it back on the shelf.

I slide the closet door shut, heading over to my dresser. I search through every drawer, not finding the piece of clothing I'm looking for.

I'm leaving to New York tomorrow morning and I still have yet to find it, so responsible of me.

I open my closet again, hoping the dress will magically appear in it as if I couldn't find it the first time.

I look down and notice it laying on a suitcase, I pick it up dusting it off with one hand.

It's an extravagant dress, way too fancy for my liking. I honestly don't even know where I would where it. Maybe at fashion week since I'll have to go to soon.

It has thin straps for the arms and I can't make out the color in the lighting, there's a slit by the leg and the back of the dress is even more complicated.

Probably won't even end up wearing it but I'm bringing it with me just in case.

I begin to zip up the suitcase containing all my belongings and carrying it down to the wooden plank floor from the mattress.

I make sure everything is in place, and then set it down to the floor once again.

I sit down on the carpet, using a hand to move the suitcase away from me.

I'm not exactly thrilled about going, well yeah I've been wanting to for years now but the point is that I'm going for New York fashion week, for work.

I don't exactly have the time to look around, or enjoy it.

We're supposedly going to be staying at hotels, and the most time I've spent at a hotel is a couple hours.

Maybe I'm overly nervous, or the normal amount of nervous. I can never tell the difference.

I swear I'm going insane.

I'll think about this tomorrow, yeah and everything will be fine.

I need fresh air, or I will seriously throw up.

-

I drove to the beach again.

Can't begin to count how many times I've been here. It's strange to think that this is my somewhat "safe place", the place where I go to when I want all my worries to disintegrate.

I fumble through the bag on my lap, reaching deep into it. I grab my inhaler, taking it out and unscrewing the cap off.

I pump it a few times into my mouth, securing the cap back on.

It's always temporary, but I like to believe that it'll last. It might be a childish thing to think about but it's easier to move on that way.

My favorite thing about this beach is that I don't have to be concerned about anything, tomorrow is tomorrow and right now I've chosen not to think about it.

I sat on a plaid picnic blanket on the sand, watching as wind blew across the surface of the ocean, causing a small wave to form and crash back down to the shore.

I shove a few strands of my hair behind my ear, fixing it. Laying down on the picnic blanket, and feeling the soft breeze through my parted hair.

I think after leaving tomorrow, this the place I'll miss the most. I know it's strange, finding a place memorable. Especially since I've been here so many times to consider it my home, my escape from everything.

An abandoned beach.

For a little while, I won't have that escape. I'll be surrounded with chaos and commotion.

I sense the phone on my lap buzz, picking it up and noticing that my mother's calling me.

I swiped, putting the phone to my ear and waiting for her to speak to me.

"Qué estas haciendo?" She questioned in a low voice.

"I'm at the beach." I stated.

"Ah, qué haces en la playa?" Confusion fills her voice.

"Nada." I answered, putting the phone back down on the blanket. I put the call on speaker.

"Entonces porqué estas ahí?"

I let out a heavy sigh, "Mamá, me duele la cabeza, podemos hablar algun otro dia?"

"Bueno, adios. Te quiero mucho." She says in a sweeter tone.

"Te quiero más." I answered, the call cuts off as soon as I said so.

I lay on my stomach and take out the journal in my tote bag, beginning to flip through the pages and find a blank page.

I miss Maya a lot right now, specifically in this moment. I can't figure out why though, possibly why my head is starting to hurt.

Her warmth, every moment spent with her that made everything okay. The way she always told me that everything would be okay.

She lied.

She can't lie to me anymore.

Next month is my first birthday without her, I remember she'd tell me all her plans for my twenty-first birthday. She's always planned my birthdays.

It's going to be my twenty-first birthday and she won't be here.

It's a difficult thing to grasp, but I'm just going to have to accept that. It's not like I can do shit about it.

Birthdays are such a strange concept too, you celebrate the day you were born? That's fucking weird, and it's an annual thing too.

If she isn't here why should I even celebrate it?

My pen is running out, why the hell did I pick this pen? This is a shitty pen.

My handwriting looks messy.

I close the cap over the pen, putting it back in my bag.

-

this is a filler chapter so feel free to skip over it, it's not as important as the others. but if u read it, how'd you like it? i'm trying to improve my writing so constructive criticism is always welcome so lmk

love you and thank u for 5k reads