An upside-down triangle of black squares and white lines- how it has stayed up I’ve never understood. Today I am here only to be, I let the mystery settle in the back of my mind. It fizzles away with the tourist shops and over-priced food stalls that don’t interest me. The fifth floor is my home.

Tattered black railing keeps me from falling over the edge, a great expanse of blue above and below. Clouds cover the sky in the distance, but immediately overhead none exist. Pure blue extends forever, interrupted only by the put-putter of small planes as they take off.

I envy the small planes that can fly into the wind which scatters my hair uncontrollably. They buzz farther away, until I can just make out their black silhouette against the blue. I wonder where they go, and how exhilarated they must feel.

Gray buildings in the distance slide up the bright blue sky, the choppy sea lies below. Teal blue it sloshes up and down, back and forth, continuously saying hello and goodbye. Pelicans swoop into the water, to retrieve their daily dose of fish. White gulls caw while they soar over and around the many boats that litter the sea. They stand out bright against the dark ocean, the light almost hurts my eyes.

The constant lap of waves eat away at the shore and my thoughts, tugging on the bad, encouraging me to let go. The wind frees me entirely; it blows the regretful thoughts from my mind, leaving the rhythm of the birds, boats and bay/ocean to help me focus on the good. I can’t help but feel peace.

I peer down at the stone below; it makes up both roof and floor. Further down at ground level is the road. Dark black surrounded by a red brick patio with blue benches and multi-colored umbrellas. A man and woman ride through on bikes. I wonder if this is their everyday routine.

And suddenly I am taken back to years ago, when this place was alive, thriving with tourists and locals alike. I am on a four-person bike called a Surrey with my mom and best friend Katie. The bright red bike has two seats in front, and two in back, with a canopy over-top.

We round the corner, where the patio begins, most of the tables/benches are full. For some reason we decide to greet everyone with a British accent. “Hello, good morning.” I greet an old man eating a hotdog. He looks up and smiles, I can’t tell if he has noticed my fake accent or not.

We continue all the way around, laughing as we greet a pair of real British tourists. We turn around the other corner, a familiar wind hits our faces as we ride. A long stretch of gray road extends before us. The same blue sea is calm to my right, the clang, clang of the trolley bell can be heard in the distance. The peddles of the bike are hard to push, and halfway down the street we lose my mom’s plastic water bottle.

It lands in the middle of the road. Katie and I laugh hysterically. We imagine coming back to find it exploded, run over by a car. Nothing left but a dark splat of water on this dry road. However by the time we return with the Surrey there it lies, alone and perfectly unharmed.

 I could use that water bottle today. My throat is dry. Salt air fills my nostrils with every breath.

Nonetheless, I am content to stand here, to observe the boats play chicken with each other, to feel the battle between golden sun and boisterous wind and to listen to the seductive purr of planes braving the open air.

I could stay here forever.

Forever… After checking my watch I notice something scrawled beneath my hand on the railing.  

John & Lori, it reads, complete with a heart surrounding the names. I wonder if they will last forever. Or have they already broken up?

My friend Tiffany jokes that they have five kids, but regrettably are getting a divorce. I laugh and look back out at the ocean. I almost forgot she was here with me, it has been so quiet, each of us trapped in our own thoughts.

Mixtures of pain and peace slip through my mind. Here it all makes sense. The cooling wind and hot sun balance each other flawlessly. One is not complete without the other. Here, the blue sky teaches me the ways of the world, and I am recharged.

Here I am like the water bottle left in the road. Surrounded by life and energy, hurt and healing. I am alone but perfectly unharmed.  

If I could see into the future then I would know exactly what to do right now, five minutes from now, two months from now, even a year from now... If I could see into the future I would know what to do period. Which would be very nice.

Currently I am struggling with a battle in my brain, down to the deepest depths of my every thought. Constantly I go back and forth on a topic I used to know so well; on a topic that used to be my friend. Now however it has become my sworn enemy. & Therefore I fight.

I fight myself about a promise. A promise made long ago in a far away land; one which knew nothing over the promise that was made, but made it nonetheless. I promised myself long ago that I would never do what I now think on daily. I promised myself I would never even consider it an option. But presently I do.

& Thus I ask you: When is it appropriate (if ever) to go back on your word, or promise you made to yourself?

The seriousness of this battle should be taken into account, for the promise was not made blindly- it did have some knowledge to back it up. And a very serious promise it is. It is not as though I promised myself never to eat meat and then changed my mind. That would be fine! It is not as if I promised myself to forever hate the color pink, and then took that back as well. Who cares? No, the promise is much more serious than that. It is a promise about morality and self-respect and compromise. It's a promise NOT to be like everyone else; to resist temptation and peer-pressure. The fact that I would even rethink the promise frightens me to death.

But here I am- still thinking on it.

What do I do? What if I truly do not care anymore about the promise I then, so long ago, made?
     For, I feel as if I am already too late. I fear that I have changed my mind, and that is why I battle; I'm in denial.

I don't want to go back on my word. I do not under any circumstance wish to make a foolish decision that I will regret... and yet, at the same time, I feel like I am going to do that exact thing. 'Then don't do it!' I can almost hear you scream at me. 'If you know you will regret it, don't do it.' But that's just the thing, I fear that I could potentially regret it, but I feel as though I would not. (It's a very fine line.) 

This is what terrifies me most. To not regret changing my mind on a decision that was fundamentally a part of my very being. It'd be like taking away your very traits. Take away my brown hair, or my blue eyes and what do you have? Aren't I less of myself? Or, better yet, take away my love for writing and cheese, or any other thing that makes me, me... and I have changed drastically. What a difficult and scary concept!!

But it's not as though I am simply changing something about myself. I'm changing something I might do. This is where it gets tricky, because there are many consequences in changing your actions. If I changed what my favorite shoes were, that would matter little in my life. But to change an action, that can be repeated, and possibly change my life by form of destruction...

What do I do? I know what I want to do. I want to go with this mind change, because it's easy and fun. I want to change my frame of mind because it could quite possibly turn out to be okay. It might not ruin my life or end my childhood- in fact it probably wouldn't. But the smaller pecentages always intimidate me. But even more so does the thought of changing myself so much.

If I could see the future I would know exactly what I should do. I would know if changing my mind on a issue so sensitive would be alright.

     A strange feeling of alone enveloped me as I walked out to my car... but it wasn't because there was no one with me, and no one talking; it was a strange, eery quiet. It was as if there was nothing... no one... anywhere. The world around me had gone silent and I was left with out a soul, without a thought. 
     Then all of a sudden, as the reality of this struck me, as if fighting it's way through the silence a glimpse of a thought came near, almost penetrating the darkness that surrounded the quiet.
     But almost was not good enough, and as the thought crept back into the darkness I realized that never before in my life have I truly felt alone.
    To truly feel alone one must have someone to be separated from, someone to miss, someone with which to feel a lack of presence when they are missing. I'm sure that all of you will agree that I have missed someone in my life before, and therefore you would ask, "Why then have you not felt alone?"
     Simply because, in order to feel alone you must be in love.
Not the friendly love, nor the family love... although I know that I have missed both family members and friends that I love. But the kind of love that you only share with one other.
     I'm sure that many would disagree with me, saying that in the past they have had no one to turn to, no one to help them through a tough time, no one around at all; and thus they have felt alone.
     But were they? Were they really alone?
Can alone actually be the absence of all others? Is it the lack of souls near your own?
      No.
      Alone is when there is plenty of human contact, numerous other humans surrounding and yet still you feel that uncomfortable tug of someone missing.
      Alone is when you feel your heart beat with a question, when it asks you, "Without the presence of that one, should I continue beating?" 
      Ironic though it may be, one cannot truly know what it is to be alone until they are in love. For aloneness does not come from the absence of others, but from the absence of this one person. 
       Noise may flood your ears and your area, but without this one, you cannot hear it. You do not see the hundreds around you, nor do you feel them shaking your hand. All is for not when your love is unreachable. You feel trapped. You move, act, speak and do, but you do not notice your actions. It is as if you are numb. 
        The lack of feeling becomes unbearable and simultaneously makes you terrified. 
        How terrified? you ask.
        If you have ever genuinely been alone you will know exactly how terrified. 
Alone is a feeling so horrible that you would not wish it on your worst enemy. Surely there is no worse torture than to feel alone. When you cannot talk to your love, or hold their hand, or just look into their eyes you begin to imagine the horrors of if you were to never see them again.
       It's horrifying. You cannot comprehend how you would ever move on with life. Even in that exact moment of aloneness, you wonder what is the point of continuing?
It is impossible to find an answer.
       When you love like this love you are finally complete. You search for nothing more in life, and you lose the potential to ever be sad again. You are always happy, even during the toughest times- because you know that they will be there with you to get you through it, together. With love like this you would do anything for them, you would do whatever you had to do to make their wildest dreams come true. And you know that they would do the same; that they do, do the same.
       To be away from this person that makes you feel this way is the only alone there ever is and ever could be. The alone that you have felt in the past is incomparable to the alone that comes with the absence of your love.
       There is no worse feeling in the world. & you hope and pray with all your heart that you will never have to go through these horrible feelings permanently, but you thank God all the same that you have someone to have these feelings about- even if it is only temporary.