a self-professed addiction

Life is a Beach.   Whoever came up with this line, or said it in his/her lifetime probably lived his/her entire life on the beach. To many, it's absurd. But to a sun-worshipper like me, that's a hefty stroke of luck. It's one of my plans in the future, to relocate somewhere far, with an amazing beach and spend the last years of my life watching the waves touch the sand.   It hasn't been long since I proposed my love for the beach. I was brought to loving its entirety when I discovered I was in the right combination all at the same time: I was in the company of good friends, I have money to spend, it was summer and the sun's a-blazing, and the perfect beach -- white, pristine sand extravaganza. It was indeed the perfect vacation. Eversince then, I found myself enthralled by the idea of searching for the best beaches all over the country. Soaking myself up under the sun-- with sand touching my feet and fruit shake in hand. In time, I'm sure to one by one, cross them out of my bucket-list.     I am 24 years old. And a frustrated travel blogger. It suddenly became an in-thing, and before I know it, I resorted to just reading and reviewing. But this thing about travel arranging, looking up cheap hotels to stay in, noting different tourist sites, where to shop, where to eat, how to get to a specific paradise, the whole itinerary -- it's talking business. But more on that on my later life. (maybe)   The idea of comfort, i.e.: the lulling sound of waves, the crisp air heated by the sun touching your skin, your eyes looking over the vast spread of sand and water and the feeling of tranquility drifting you off to sleep. This, ladies and gentlemen, is the same euphoria I get whenever I disembark on a new journey. The Beach Life. I will forever want. It's a way of living that I'll obligingly (if there is such a term) work for. A good investment of memories in the future, when preservation is gonna be next to impossible.