For a long time, I’ve felt disconnected, unsettled. It’s hard to get to a certain place in your life where you feel familiar, where you are comforted by that familiarity. I know it might be hard to understand, but I’ve longed for some time for a home of my own.

With my ex, we had our own place(s) but they always felt like his. I always felt like a visitor. Growing up, things like this didn’t really cross my mind. But I always had one constant in my life. Our annual trip to San Fransisco.

The air is different there. Every year, the first night there, I would step outside our hotel room and just listen to the city, breathe it in. The chill in the air, the smell of the ocean. The way the city vibrates. It’s completely alive and I always felt that.

It’s hard for people to understand why I love that city so much. Sometimes I don’t really understand it. But no matter, maybe when I am there this weekend, I’ll realize why. Or maybe, I’ll just remember how the city makes me feel, and revel in it.

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