Summer Sixteen

The seventeenth of August in the year 2016 I am sitting poolside drinking vodka and wine. No kids. No man. Just me and my cousins and aunts. Yeah, Puerto Rico is technically the U.S. but this is the first time I have traveled out of state and stayed for more than a weekend. I have twerked on the beach Olympian nonstop status. I have visited a castle and the old San Juan. I have gained about five pounds in my face and I have no care in the world. I miss my babies and my man like crazy but I NEEDED this. I have thoroughly enjoyed myself and this is the last night I plan on being drunk. I’ve had authentic Puerto Rican food and sushi. Still haven’t found white Hennessy to take back to my man. But it’s cool. I remember a time when I couldn’t leave my bed because of my anxiety and now I have taken two planes and come to the Caribbean. I swear I wanted to cry but I’m a thug. This is a huge accomplishment for me. And I am so proud of myself. Most people would be reluctant to go back home but I am looking forward to it. Maybe not the responsibilities so much but back to my loved ones. Back to my comfort zone. I can finally say I traveled. And not for social media. But for me. Hopefully this will not be my first and last time. 


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