Every one needs their paradise, a place to isolate yourself from the crashing waves we call life. The sand sinks in between your toes, and you let it; you let it fill those empty spaces that no one could possible fill. The sun kisses your skin because there was no one there to do so in the first place. The sunscreen you hated as a kid now becomes a necessity, because as you matured, you realized you need that protection from the outside world because who's there to do it for you. Silence as you stand just a couple tides away from the waters. People beyond the waves are cold, but not near as cold as the water in your right hand. But you let it trickle down your throat, because it's the only thing to cool your pain and freeze you in this time, in this life, on this island you call paradise. But you won't find me there. With headphones in, isolation sets. The black fabric caresses the most disgusting part of my body because only I know no one would love me enough to protect me like my shoes. The salt on my lips remind me of the sweat that we call hard work because only I can work as hard and efficient as my mind allows me. Mind over matter is a matter of the mind. And no one but myself can control that. Silence as I stand just a couple steps away from the empty stands I never once glance at during a game. The blue Powerade rushes down my throat and I let it, because although the color is deeper than any other feelings that I've had, the power of being my own aid is the best type of paradise I could ask for. The power to control your motivation, the power to control your potential for greatness, the power to overcome your troubles through an act of independence, that's my paradise. A place I can isolate myself and only myself to become the person I want to become when there's no one but myself on that hardwood floor I call paradise.