It’s 2021, and for the past year we’ve all been stuck inside. To the point that I've realized that the phrase 'home is where the heart is' isn't really talking about a point in space. Now more than ever, even the most reclusive of us are beginning to feel the aspects of their hearts that exist beyond the house. Many of us are only just realizing parts of the things they hated to do are things they miss. The outside, large groups, public speaking, and other such stressful situations can be lonely or frightening, but we can find ourselves getting restless if we go without experiencing the full range of human emotion for too long.

If we aren’t made to be exhausted, we simply become tired. If we lose many stressors, we can feel unmotivated and on edge.

So it goes without saying that, at around the midpoint of Quarantine and just near the middle, around December of 2020, my family and many others began making plans to leave for a vacation. The plans themselves, of course, only came recently, with anything before that being simple indulgences in the idea of leaving. To cope, I think. We loved the idea of going somewhere, and choosing one so soon would ruin the fun of thinking about the potential. Knowing you *can* go anywhere is fun in a different way to actually going somewhere, and it's actually much more of a comfort when you know you won't be going anywhere for a while.

Nobody was as ambitious as I was in our talks. After all, I am no more immune to this than anybody else, though I think it’s also because quarantine was when I began to idealize some sort of adventurousness. Perhaps a product of my captivity, perhaps teen spirit, perhaps my social development, or perhaps my mounting hatred of the ambiance of United States suburbs.

Whatever it was, I wanted to see the world, and most of all I wanted to get further away from my own house than anybody else. I didn’t get my wish, though, because my brother is afraid of planes.

But let it be known I would have preferred to go somewhere more foreign than Hilton Head Island in South Carolina. Not that I’m complaining, anywhere would have done, and somewhere tropical sounded nice when we decided it in the spring of 2021 after what I assume was much deliberation. And by deliberation I mean fantasizing, discussing, and being faced with the coldness of reality.

I’m sure it sounds like I’m sad or disappointed at this outcome. I’m not, and I wasn’t. It just didn’t stick out to me- there’re a million island locations, and I figured we’d end up at one regardless because where else is someone going to go on vacation on the East Coast?

Everyone in my family has their own tastes and interests- My twin being into sports and my mother being into history and my being into pretty much everything else.

My two grandparents, who would come along with us, being into whatever it is that we were, really. And all of that was just the 5 of us who lived in the Chicago area- Meeting us at the house we rented for the first week of August would be our cousins.

So we wouldn’t be able to decide on one place to stay the week where the attraction was something in particular.

The point of the vacation wasn’t the location itself, in a sense. Rather, that was more something to facilitate all of our getting away, and providing a backdrop for us to all catch up with one another. Or at least pretend to catch up with one another, considering they all already speak on social media.

Regardless, that was more than enough.

Day 1 - July 30th, 2021

Friday was the first day of my vacation, but to me it felt as if it began during the day before. That is to say I had elected to pull an all-nighter for the first time in my life.

Why, you ask? Well, the week before I hadn’t bothered to adjust my sleep schedule, so I wouldn’t be able to fall asleep fast enough for that night to be anything more than a nap regardless. I likely wouldn’t be asleep before 3:00, and since we were set to leave at 5, there wasn’t really a point.

With my body strewn across the white couch in the Family Room in distinctly bisexual ways, midnight was just another minute going by in my sleep-deprived trance induced by the beckoning bluelight of my cellphone. The night was spent messaging friends on Discord and thinking about things that could go wrong on vacation.

I wasn’t anxious about it, despite how it sounds. Conversely, I was actually hoping something like that would happen- It would mean something interesting would happen over vacation, and it would in turn mean something interesting enough to be a valid justification for not posting on my website that week.

By 3:00 AM I had both successfully staved off sleep and eaten half of a family sized box of cheez-itz, with the night having been spent in contemplation and conversation. Mostly with a certain friend of mine, with whom I spoke to about getting psychiatry and therapy. My go-to as an untrained teen who has been in therapy for things many of his friends can relate to.

After all of that, we somehow began talking about things I couldn’t go to therapy for. Things I actually cared about. Which was terrifying, and always brought my emotions past the high threshold it took for me to actually register them.

Calling what had happened a falling out is ostensibly accurate in that that doesn’t quite encompass what it was to me.

The group was an important bastion of my online presence. It held parts of my personal identity I couldn’t express anywhere else. And I know it’s a little dramatic but I felt like my entire concept of the group cohesion had been shattered into pieces enough so the feedback from the dissonance was likely flooding some poor sap’s favorite radio band.

I think most of the conversation was assuring the other that we both felt the same. We didn’t find any answers. We didn’t expect to. I know it at least made waiting a lot more bearable for me.

I recognize that it’s difficult to take teenage drama like this seriously, but the fact that I was able to express how much it meant to me in the first place is new to me, here or in messages. I just hope that this can be inspiration for me- inspiration for how to successfully be open around others and allow them to be open around me. Maybe learning to brave a storm alongside someone rather than above or below them is another first step, or even the next on a path I’ve been following for a while.

All I really know is that things are getting better.

-

My emotions were running high and my decision making faculties were severely compromised. The conversations had all fizzled out, no doubt as a result of the growing tiredness of both the others and myself. I was ready to experience another something new.

My first time pulling an all-nighter, my first time having hope for becoming an emotionally vulnerable human being, and now, hopefully, my first time on the roof late at night.

Which wasn’t at all what I was thinking about when I decided to do it - I just wanted to climb out of a window, and I was, as stated, too tired and manic to care about any potential safety hazards.

I threw on my shorts, leaving them unbuttoned so they wouldn’t rip, and began my trek up the creaky carpeted stairs, the only path to the roof. I was far more cautious than I probably had to be, only really scared that my dog would go wild at hearing the slightest noise in the house as he usually did.

He didn’t. For the simple reason that we had left him at home with a dogsitter. He wouldn’t ride in the car for 2 days, and even if he would that would be difficult for everyone else. The realization didn’t bring me any more confidence.

I swiftly swung around the railing to my right and fully turned the knob before slowly pushing the door to my room open. I scurried in, closed the door behind me, and flipped on the light, sending a mono-yellow cast reflecting across the featureless walls, fake-wooden shelves, and the untouched queen sized bed in the center laid out sideways.

My target was a few feet to the right of the bed. The wood-framed windows called my gaze.

I had confirmed that the screen behind the glass could open easily a few weeks prior. Now, I was staring it down, and I was 100% and entirely sure that I would not be able to fit.

I’m a bigger guy. Around 6’1 and over 200lbs, so although I’m relatively flexible, there are many places where I will simply end up stuck. On top of that, I’m clumsy, so I tend to get stuck even where I shouldn’t. Simply by eyeballing it, I could see no way out.

And the outside was entirely dark, almost abyssal. I couldn’t see anything beyond it, not my landing destination nor the big tree right out in front to the right of the driveway. The only evidence I had of something beyond it

It, again, called me. I pushed my hand out and down and gave it a test, feeling the roof inches below the lip at the bottom of the window. I think that was the point of no return, where I had touched the outside and had learned there was something beyond the veil of blackness. Wanting to taste more of the wind on my tongue, I pushed my face out as well. I wanted to go further, so I brought my right leg up and through, experiencing through my foot the electrifying sensation of the cool roof tiles.

At that point, I was halfway out, but I still didn’t think I would be able to leave. I didn’t even consider it. I was just doing it to have something to show for the excursion- How could I possibly go through with it? There wasn’t really anywhere to hold on.

And I had a crazy thought.

‘My weight is already pretty far out. Couldn’t I just push through now?’

And then, too quickly, I was stumbling through the gap I had opened. I reoriented myself and pushed my left leg out of the house and in front of me and I sat. I swiveled around to check my exit.

It still looked too small. I figured the yoga I had been doing all summer had paid off, but it was still surprising to me I had managed it. I decided to not worry about getting back in and pushed on.

My hands were shaky. I still took pictures, laying down on top of the roof. My mind was spinning with far too many thoughts to really think much about what I wanted to do. It would have been fun to play music or come up with flowery descriptions for the scene, but I mostly just wanted to share my achievement with the ones I loved. I was happy, excited, anxious about what could go wrong, and I think overall just thrilled.

My view was restricted to a segment of the driveway below and a hole of the sky above by the wall of tree branches in front of the second story. The moon was dim enough to seem a star. I nearly dropped my phone too many times, only adding to my shakiness.

And I wasn’t in a state to appreciate it. I did it because I could, and now it feels like a dream. But it’s one I want to make reality once more, time and time again.

Minutes later I decided to head back in, afraid of being caught. Afraid I wouldn’t be able to make it back. Hoping to prove I could.

My right foot didn’t touch the ground as I kneeled to put it inside. I kept my groin just above the sharp-enough-to-hurt bottom indents of the window and didn’t trust myself to take the plunge.

I got up and tried more positions. I turned, and that worked even less, darn my righthandedness. I tried sliding in with both of my legs forward, but the window slid down when I tried to pull on it to position myself. I tried going in headfirst but there were even less places to get my hands. I didn’t want to break my neck- My fall and subsequent screaming would probably wake up my mother.

In the end, I knew that the only solution, as I feared, would be to get my foot on the ground while my torso was through into the house.

It was at that point where I crawled further to the edge of the roof than I ever had before, recognizing the fact that I may need to take the plunge and jum-

My eyes caught site of the ground no less than ten feet below me, facing me with the reality of my utter lack of landing technique.

‘Nope.’

In disputation, knowing things could go severely wrong if I decided to jump, I decided to take a different plunge. Namely, plunging my balls against the indent in the bottom of the window frame.

My right foot made contact with the ground and I half-vaulted-half-stumbled through. I spent 20 minutes on the ground wheezing at the damage my precious jewels had needed to take. But I had done what I had told myself I set out to do.

I had gone onto the roof and looked around at the world from there. I had seen the night from a view nobody else before me likely had. I had actually made another first.

I nearly wanted to try for another, but then I looked at the clock. Oh well.

On many days like that, I tended to do ‘rebellious teen shit’ like this. When I have freedoms blessed by those above me that I intend to utilize I tend to get anxious that it no longer means anything. That my own will to do something is wasted. And I desire to, in turn, take a different freedom for myself, perhaps to prove I don’t need them to tell me what I can and can’t do. Or because I don’t want to admit I’m subject to their whims. Or because I think I’m far older and more mature than I really am.

Or maybe it’s just coincidence.

-

The first one up was my Grandpa, as usual. Or perhaps it was me, but I'm really not sure if you can consider someone who never went down to be the first one up. Regardless, he came down at 5:00 on the dot, surprised that I had actually gone through with it.

I was tired, but I was still functional in the sense that I had been preparing for this the entire time. I was extremely sore for some reason, though. Is that a side effect of sleep deprivation?

Either way, I didn't mention it and faked being energetic and refreshed oddly convincingly. Getting the suitcases in the car was mostly on me, though, and it hurt like a bitch. I pushed through. I just wanted to get in the car so that I could sleep.

-

I couldn't sleep.

The car we rented was just plain uncomfortable, at least in the backseat and specifically for the purpose of sleeping. Any relaxed position that wasn't straight up would result in the weird shapes all around digging into my sides.

I had everyone's sympathies, thankfully, though we did not bring any pillows or blankets. I had to settle with bunching up some beach towels.

It wasn't enough to fall asleep, but it was just enough to be able to convince myself that I would be able to.

Which made the car ride more bearable, since I couldn't focus enough to talk to friends or continue reading *East of Eden*, the book I had picked out for the vacation.

I put in my earbuds, left my phone to the side, and put on my 'Favorite Albums' playlist and felt the time fly by in a state between being awake and asleep.

-

We arrived at the hotel at around 5 and my family had to drag me out of bed so that we could head to a local restaurant. The hotel itself wasn't anything to write home about, the same mono-yellow walls and endless corridors and lifeless, sterile rooms. The feeling of liminality they embodied was compelling but such a universal experience that the thought never really led to anything on its own.

Or perhaps I was just too tired to think much into it.

Despite the sympathies expressed for my position, I still decided to go along. Mostly so that mom wouldn't remember my uncooperativeness first when I asked to pull an all-nighter again next time.

I still wish that I hadn't.

The restaurant was absolutely packed, and it would be an hour before we got a seat. Getting takeout wasn't much shorter, and we were all hungry and tired. So, naturally, we would go somewhere else, right? There were other places around.

Wrong. For some reason, we (and by we I mean my mother and grandfather) decided to wait for takeout. We stood around in a crowded restaurant in the south for nearly an hour in a dense crowd, blazing heat, and in the midst of a resurgence in a global pandemic with a few chicken sandwiches were good for it.

I would love to tell you that they weren't even that good, but that would have been a lie. Say what you want about the south- trust me, I do so often- but if nothing else they know how to cook their chicken.

I ended up eating the sandwich on the ride home. Usually I wouldn't be able to, but mom made a wrong turn on the drive back to the hotel and I was too tired to know not to complain. Wishing for me to shut up, she capitulated, and we arrived home at around 7:20.

I took a shower, which I very nearly fell asleep inside of, and then I got ready to sleep.

The hotel bed's pillows were far top thick for my sleeping position to be comfortable, and both the comforter and the sheets were scratchy and itchy. It was severely uncomfortable and it was hard to focus on falling asleep.

Needless to say, I was out almost instantly.

Day 2 - July 31st, 2021

I woke up at exactly 5:00 in the morning, somehow, and I felt more refreshed than I ever had before, especially considering the uncomfortable and stuffy hotel room. To the point where I was led to contemplate if my nature as a self-described 'night owl' is in actuality a result of preforming best when up for longer amounts of time.

Alas, the world was built upon the constant march of the 24-hour cycle, so even if I could experiment it would be nothing more than trivia. Once again, I capitulate to the natural world.

I found some solace in the fact that nature tended to be kinder than a CEO or politician. Not a high standard, granted, but I never claimed to have found *much* solace in it.

And so I thought, on and on and on, before I heard a particularly loud rustle in the bed to my left followed by an exclamation of surprise. It seemed that there wouldn't be much more time for contemplation.

It was around 6:00 at that point and we had made plans to leave by seven the day prior. And by we, I once again mean my grandpa. So, I began to get ready for the day.

With great reluctance by everyone else and with unrepentant smugness by the outlier, we were in the car by 7:30.

-

Today, the drive could no longer pass in a tiredness-induced haze just above the boundary of restfulness. I would need more to do than just listen to music.

The first few hours were easy enough; I played the myriad gacha games I had on my phone, as I did every day. I fruitlessly browsed manga sites to see if anything I liked had been updated, as I did every day. I messaged my friends good morning, as I did every day.

All the while listening to more music. It was funny how music I had grown a taste for because of the lyrics could so easily become background noise. But it wasn't as if I could scream along in the car.

Not in good conscience, anyway.

The only interesting thing that happened that trip was my insistence to go through the Wendy's drive through at lunch instead of eating inside. When my whining was pointed out, I was confused on why I was opposed to the idea. For a bit. I soon realized that I hadn't taken my anxiety medication the day prior because of the oddness of my sleep schedule, meaning the prospect of being out in public was vaguely life-or-death.

I sat in the corner and ate a burger and we got going. It wasn't actually that bad once I actually got started. And then we left again.

As much as I hate wasted time, everything after that was really just stalling. I repeated through the last cycles over and over again. I asked when lunch was once every hour, because eating was never boring, even if it wasn't quite progress either.

I found new tabs to open that would pass the time. I didn't read any of them yet, never trusting myself to remain occupied later down the line. Now that I'm back, most of them still haven't been opened. Even though my hesitance did end up being warranted.

Actually? I kind of like those lines. Maybe my time wasn't really wasted.

-

We arrived just after 4:00, and the most I could say about the ride before that is that going over the bridge was fun.

Our cousins greeted us as we got in the door, but I didn't quite get the message and just preemptively began bringing in suitcases and groceries instead of hugging my relatives. I was still a bit sore from the day prior, but it was really only an echo. The trance of physical labor assuaged all of that pretty perfectly.

-

The most obvious way into the house that we had rented was to the left of the driveway. The driveway itself was tilted at an odd angle and only barely fit the two cars (also rented), and it had a simple fence gate to the side. Moreso to enclose the outdoor showers than to provide any actual protection, as the front door was just off the street.

There were bike paths and trees around the area. And though at that point I was mostly eager to get inside of the house, I would eventually come to realize how nice the tropical greenery and car-independent design was.

Entering the lock code brought you into the foyer, a tiled floor with a bar and counter to the left forming an entrance to the kitchen. To the right was a patio, or at least something seeking to emulate one, what with its large glass windows and furniture distinctly intended for outdoor use.

Going forward was a traditional dining room leading into a living room comprised of a large, L-shaped couch to the right and a flatscreen television to the front that was playing the sort of strikingly generic program I hereby dub 'hotel channels', even if this was technically an AirBNB.

Further still was a bedroom connected through a closet within to a large bathroom, which we conceded to our grandparents. To the left from there was a vague crossroads facing the true front door, leftward again was another hallway leading to the other side of the kitchen with another room connected to it, and rightward was the stairs leading to the second floor.

On the second floor were two rooms to the left, a bathroom opposite to the stairs, and a door aligned with them that was locked. I wanted to find out what was inside of it bad. Really bad. However, any way I could think of to find out involved property damage that my family would be paying for, so I just tried not to think about it.

Both of the rooms that I mentioned had doors within them that led out to the balcony

My first priority was, of course, to check for any windows to climb up there. The only ones with a decent landing were too high up to reach while the balcony was not within reach of any slopes. Unfortunate, but altogether not unexpected.

The room my mother had elected to stay in was the obnoxiously stylized 'girls room', unbearably filled to the brim with pink and frills and sparkles and whatnot. I understand that it was technically the south, but it was definitely too much gender for my taste.

The 'boys room' my brother had holed up in was no more subtle- an admittedly nice wood-framed bunk bed with a mattress missing at the bottom (my mom had taken it so her room could have an extra bed) and surrounded by various implements of ball-themed furnishings. And that was on top of enough navy blue to make an OshKosh designer blush.

As for where I would be sleeping? A couch bed in the second floor landing, with no privacy and a mattress so thin I sank into the metal mesh below the bed. Yeah, to say I got the short end of the stick would be an understatement. Although in fairness I was also the one who offered, to avoid conflict over bedding arrangement.

It was quickly decided that my mother and I would switch mattresses and that I would be moving back downstairs with my brother. But that was tomorrow, I wasn't going to carry anything else for the rest of the day. I just holed up, came down for dinner when asked, and holed up again until I was once again the only one awake.

-

I didn't know where this vacation was going, but I did have one goal going into it; I would be up to watch the sun rise on the beach at some point. To that end, I wanted to familiarize myself with the process of sneaking out at night.

Due to the size of the house, it thankfully wasn't truly much of a process at all. I simply put on my shoes and slipped out of the door at midnight.

I didn't make it to the beach, as I didn't know where it was at that point, but I did make my way over to a wooden bridge across the lake our house was on. It was a really great view, and it would have gone well with some music if the cellular service in the area wasn't so sub-par.

I took in the oceanside night air for a while and thought about everything. Where I hoped this vacation would go and what I was looking forward to. And, hopefully, times when I could catch up with the family comfortably.

Day 3 - August 1st, 2021

I woke up sore and to the noises of my family doing the same. I checked the time after getting too antsy to go back to sleep and found that it was 8:18 AM. Six hours of sleep wasn't bad, but it wasn't exactly good either. The vague grogginess would only last for an hour or so, and the real backlash would hit later at night.

I first was frustrated that my productive hours would be wasted sitting around places I didn't really want to be. Wait, actually? I say 'first' as if it changed, which isn't entirely true. I had told myself that I wouldn't stay in my shell during vacation, but that was all I had done.

You can tell yourself anything that you want to, but it turns out that you're also the hardest person for you to lie to.

I spent the first few hours of the day completing the maintenance work for my website I had intended to do over the course of the week. I had nothing better to do.

It went smoothly, I had been putting it off because I had no real idea how to do what I wanted to do, but the first idea I had worked perfectly. Which happens both more often than you'd expect and less often than I'd like.

Pretty soon we got things together and moved my bed. The mattress that was originally on the bunk bed was moved into a closet in the 'boy's room'. The location was a joke at first.

I don't like being pranked, so I figured if I didn't laugh my uncle would get the message. On top of that, the closet was really quite nice; the mattress fit in snugly and there were plenty of outlets on top of and below a shelf to put my laptop, earbuds, and other such paraphernalia.

-

We set off for the beach a little bit after lunchtime for our first day. I went along, but under a condition; we would set up the umbrellas and chairs quickly so that I wouldn't need to wear sunscreen.

Was it safe? Absolutely not, but I really hate the smell of sunscreen, and I don't go outside enough to really be at risk of skin cancer regardless. Still, I do admit that it was flippant, even if I didn't end up being burned.

I fit a beach umbrella provided with the house into a carrying bag alongside the fold-out chair the container was intended for. If anyone were to ask, I would say I was carrying them for my grandparents. If nobody asked, and I hoped that that would be the case, I would take them for myself to read on another part of the beach.

We left down the street before turning onto the thin walking bridge I had visited the night before. This time I actually made it to the other end.

We turned right down the road and headed in the direction of a resort before winding around it to a nook between a wall of trees. It opened to a winding wooden boardwalk.

We ensured we didn't have any bikes to leave there (for some reason) before beginning our trudge up it. All the way to the top of the dune it was built over.

Which... Really wasn't very high. It just felt like it was because of the sun and the cargo.

The beach itself wasn't anything to write home about. It was pretty, sure, but it was a beach and nothing else.

If anything was particularly wonderful about it it would have been the scent and sounds, but I was far too sweaty and bothered to appreciate all of that then and there. Instead? I just internally complained about how the array of tents, umbrellas, and other brightly-colored beach implements ruined the sightline to the ocean.

The walkway sloped down and the beach slowly expanded out before us to more of the same. Touching the sand was, as always, like learning how to walk again.

It felt like your feet were in a sauna. The heat should by all rights be scalding, yet it simply wasn't. It was the hug of a warm blanket.

At least away from the shoreline. Out there, just after the boardwalk, was sand that was so soft and with so little tension that it felt like we were slipping in place. It hugged between our toes and got kicked into tiny clouds in our wake, bunching up and falling apart to the beat of our march.

Either the sand was packed together more tightly as one got closer to the water or we got better at walking around in it after a minute. Either way, our pace increased until we found a spot to set up camp.

I was about to go find my own before I actually opened my bag. Thank whatever gods may or may not be out there that I did- the umbrella was completely destroyed on one side. It wouldn't've covered a quarter of me.

So, I spent the next 20 minutes setting up the portable cabana we had brought along with the help of my uncle. Or perhaps it was more accurate to say I was the one helping him. Oh well, fuck you, this is my story, not his.

Ahem. We got the frame standing quickly and spent no less than ten minutes figuring out how to get the canopy to simultaneously fit over it and stay on. We did it, barely, though we didn't figure out where the extra shade flap was supposed to be attached. It flailed majestically in the ocean breeze for the duration of our stay.

My grandparents and I all sat in the chairs we had brought. I read and we talked about the vacation so far, mostly just niceties about how great the house was or how pretty the beach was. It was nothing deep, but it was nice, and it helped me remember that I was in fact capable of social interaction.

-

That theory was put to the test far earlier than I had hoped it would be.

We all sat at the table for dinner together, which had an impressive and perfect ten seats to fit us all. I took the seat just to the left of the head seat on one end, where my uncle sat. To my left was my middle cousin.

Most people are different from me, or I'm different from most people- it doesn't matter. I just, for one reason or another, do not interact with people like most others do. In the subtle game of impressionism that is the social landscape, I never caught sight of the game board.

So when I say that I was bored and lonely at that table it is definitively not because everybody except for me is uninteresting or the same. Finding what's interesting about anyone takes a lot of stumbling. And I'm playing a different game.

If you can't understand where someone is coming from when you look back their words will more often than not ring hollow. And it's really really hard to even try when everyone else seems to get it and can move along at the speed of thought. You can't just ask one person a question in a group like that.

Feeling left behind is a terrible feeling, but I don't know if it was caused by or the cause of me not even trying to connect with everyone.

With all of that said, the entire world outside of my chicken sandwich felt like ambient noise.

I wanted out.

Instead of leaving the house, though, I finished eating, took a shower, and went to bed.