The night after my arrival, my friend and I went down to Garnet Avenue in Pacific Beach to have a few drinks. We caught up. I only painted the broad strokes of my return because the people in San Diego are not people I share emotions with. When we walked back to her car, surrounded by boys in sandals and tank-tops yelling and laughing into the night, and girls buried in makeup, heels and short-shorts whispering and giggling, I realized something very viscerally: these are not my people.
And I knew that's exactly why I'd come back. These people, though easygoing and friendly, do not move me. I feel like a stranger here, and somewhere in me I unconsciously believe that that's how I should feel. Sometimes we can unveil the unconscious motivation for our actions, sometimes we cannot. But I see why I moved back here now, not knowing the true reason all throughout my journey. They say "home is where the heart is" and my heart is not in San Diego. I came back to get away from my heart. Whenever I get close to my heart, to happiness, when happiness looks me in the eyes and makes beautiful strawberry-sweet promises, that's when the lies burn most. These people can lie and use me and abandon me all they want, because they do not have my trust or my heart. The moments I believe in are the moments that kill me. I opened myself to the heart's possibilities one final time, but possibilities are 50/50 and I lost. "I Lost Everything", as Sam Cooke sublimely sings. Like a condemned building, I was demolished. So, I return to this anonymous place, having said goodbye to all that made me feel alive. This is my silver-lining play. Now I'm just a mouse in an elephant graveyard, and here I don't have to worry about the heart that isn't there.
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| "I've been doing some soul searching, to find out where you're at. I've been up and down the highway in all kinds of foreign lands. Someone like you, make it all worthwhile. Someone like you, keep me satisfied. Someone exactly like you." |
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