I left my soul in San Francisco

I don't know where I have been. I feel like I have been so out of touch with everything- my friends, my family, myself, and God. I have been playing make believe, putting cartoon bandaids on wounds that need stitches. Trying to touch and feel with scarred tissue. I am not ready yet. I am not ready.

I remember two years ago, actually, almost three, when I was in the Bay Area for the first of many summers. I remember riding in the backseat listening to the Honorary Title and Tegan and Sara and watching the hills and wishing I could tuck and roll out of the car and run through them and bask in the sunshine and just enjoy being alone and being whole. I feel like that again.

But the difference is that, this time, I feel like there is hope. It's hard to realize that. It's hard to hope for the future when you're stuck wishing for the past and it keeps being thrown in your face. I think about running through those hills and dancing in the sun and being content rather than hardened and cold.

But I need to be truthful. I have to run through those hills alone. I need time to think and heal and feel and grow and root deep into the ground.

It helps that I have amazing friends, friends who feel a lot of the same things as me, and who understand and support and make me smile while I drive through Autumn leaves singing Eisley at the top of my lungs.

On a side note, I just read over this and realized I write in really cryptic run-on sentences. And I would like to advertise that if anyone wants candy, I have about 20 lbs to much. The end.