The Spray-Paint Pocket Vacation

just found a tiny beach near that city buzz, mostly just smudges and old driftwood. nothing grand, just pure, chaotic bliss. i sat sprawled on a sun-warmed rock, just… looking. the wind humming something nonsense, maybe a half-remembered tune. feels like trying to catch smoke with my fingers, but somehow it works. it’s weirdly peaceful, yet utterly overwhelming, like being stuck inside a very sad neon sign. i left feeling… lighter? or just very tired of planning things. maybe that’s the point. the only clear answer right now is ‘yes, but weirdly okay.’