Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
“While I can understand one’s aversion to the dirt, please understand that once rinsed in tap water, the metal and mineral components in all water speed the decomposition process; therefore, the food rots at a faster rate. Organic does cost more, because the rate in which a store loses the produce is higher since they aren’t packed full of preservatives, which settles in your gut and makes for a slow moving digestive system. And the dirt you visibly see is simple the covering provided in nature to slow oxidation and keep the air off the fruit or vegetable.” Immediately, I regret speaking.
I switched majors in college and finished with a degree in horticulture. Plant life, studying it, exploring it—well, it’s the only thing I could make sense of after facing the loss of real people’s lives.
“Thanks for the science lesson,” the woman cuts me off, and I draw back at her tone. My intention wasn’t to offend, but to explain.
Shrugging, I go back to work, deciding not to press my luck.
I made a decision five years ago to live a simplified life as much as I can and be conscious of my decisions for both my body and my environment. I lost everything by being careless, something I won’t do again. The regrets kept me up at night for far too long. I try to remain focused and centered in my every thought, word, and action now.
I even considered going off the grid, but I soon realized my fear of bugs and my height leave me at a strong disadvantage to making a go at it. Plus, living in South Beach, there isn’t really a whole lot of possibilities for that lifestyle.
Instead, I live in a one room loft-style apartment, drive a Prius, and eat a mostly natural diet. Like the women beside me, the life isn’t for everyone. Modern day conveniences come at a price to our bodies and environment, but it’s my choice, and I can’t push it on everyone.
They push their carts on by without buying anything organic, and I go about straightening up.
Not everyone can understand me. I don’t take it personally. The choices I make are for me and me alone.
It’s hard to keep it in perspective. Living a clean life allows me to not lose sight of the blessings I have. For me, keeping my diet away from processed foods isn’t about being skinny; it’s about not clogging my heart, pores, or mind with junk. Yoga balances both the mind and the body. It wasn’t until I immersed myself in this lifestyle that I found peace.
When my shift ends, I find my mood lacking. Sadness, an emotion I am once all too familiar with, encompasses me.
Depression.
I remind myself I won’t go there again. I have cleaned up my life. No demons haunt me anymore. Today was not the best day, but it wasn’t the worst, either.
I have dealt with the worst. Now I have my crystals, my diet, and my lifestyle to keep my energies refocused on the positives and not the darkness. I lost a lot, yes, but I haven’t lost it all.
I gather my things from the breakroom then make my way to my car. Distractedly, I pull out into traffic, trying to forget my past and stay in my current.
The alarm on my phone goes off, reminding me it’s time for a snack. Reaching over to my passenger seat cooler, I take out an apple. We eat for sustenance, not for hunger. By maintaining a healthy glucose, I don’t feel the hunger pains.
I keep my body and mind on a regimented schedule. My mind can’t become distracted, and my emotions won’t run in a panic if I continually eat in small portions. Again, it’s about control for me.
The light ahead turns red, and I take my foot off the gas and press down on the brake.
Lifting the green fruit to my mouth, I bite, tasting the bitterness of the Granny Smith apple hit my taste buds. I close my eyes briefly in appreciation.
That’s when the bump happens.
Throwing the apple over my shoulder, I look up to see a huge man on a motorcycle look over his shoulder at me after my bumper has clearly pushed into his rear tire.
Oh heavens, what have I done?
He pushes the kickstand down as I throw the car in park, slap on my hazard lights, and open my door.
“Oh, my goodness, I’m so sorry,” I say, rushing toward him.
His dark eyes stare right through me as I look at him.
Before me stands a stunningly tall, bald man whose aura screams sex in a dark way. He has one of those seriously killer beards that you sort of want to pet because it’s so fabulous. It accentuates his strong face and tanned skin. His long legs are covered in jeans that hug his tree trunk thighs, and his feet are clad in some serious-looking ass-kicking boots. A black shirt covers his chest underneath his leather vest with patches all over it. The whole visual strikes me as an intimidating figure.