When I was younger, I wrote everyday.
I wrote about everything. I wrote about how I felt, how my days went, about thoughts and worries — I wrote about everything. It was nothing special, I had this old Tumblr blog that I would just constantly vent to and for my thirteen year old self, it became some sort of a hobby. And without knowing, it brought out the writer in me. It's something that I used to do and it's something that I have been meaning to return to for months now. While writing here means that I am going to be writing to a much more open and apparent audience, I will try my best to remain as honest and as genuine as I can.
Now, on to what I really wanted to talk about: Lately I've been experiencing California withdrawals. Like the ocean, it comes in waves. It comes and it goes. And it's not only in regards to what I did with friends then, but of the times that I spent there with my family as well. Life has become so visibly different now, in so many more ways than one, that life on the west coast seems so distant now. And to an extent, as do the people, places and things that I left behind. But I know that I am not the only one who left, I know that California has finally decided to leave me as well. And the remainders that I once had from the house on the corner of Foothill and Euclid vanish a little bit more and more every day. Understandably, we've both gone our separate ways. The hardest part about this is being separated from the people that have watched me grow up. But on the days that I begin to feel a slight golden pull, I am still able to find solace in the fact that when I look back, it's all still there.
When I first left, I used to think about what I left behind almost every day. After all, it was home. But that was before all of this.
These days, I find myself only looking to her. These days, I only look to the future.