She wrote me a letter from San Diego.

My mind is cleansing itself of the past. Which brings me to how I feel today. Reliving old conversations and revisiting old promises from years prior. Because it’s what I do best, going through the scabs and learning to live with the scars. We said one day, we would make it there. All the way to sunny San Diego. Run away from this god forsaken town, and into hideaway of the summer sun. That was always the plan. You had never been and I had been far too many times. What a great place to get away and forget anyone ever existed. Away from the judging eyes, the crazy people, and the homes that have long forgotten us. God, how I loved the idea of running in and out of trouble and escaping to the southern California sun.

I’ve never been so lost
I’ve never felt so much at home
Please write my folks and throw away my keys

That seems to be the thing lately. Running away from problems, instead of dealing with everything head on. I should have seen all the signs, instead I played with the idea. It would be better for us to run and leave this place behind. Into the coast and becoming different people. Completely opposites of who we really are. Maybe then things would be different for us. We wouldn’t feel like strangers, we wouldn’t hurt each other anymore. Maybe after you have been somewhere else, you’d be kinder to me. We’d be kinder to each other. Mirages are illusions and even your words played tricks on me. I could be easily wooed and easily persuaded, and just the same easily fooled. It was the idea of the grass being greener on the other side of the state, that I could plot and plan our escape. I was wrong and most days its hard letting go.

There’s a fear that comes before me once I reach the golden coast. Once I drive through the sandy beaches and breathe in the salty air. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened had we made it there. Had we lived in this runaway mode and left with only what we had on us. Down the western coast and into the southern regions of our escaped minds. This city is tainted for me, I could never go back. Even if it never happened, I could never return. The memory of pacts you make with forgotten people, change you completely in the end. Its mad to believe people have that hold over your reality. That they hold this nostalgic tainted feeling that ruins the present for you. I loved San Diego but all I think about is this promise of being someone else. Anyone else then who we were at that current time. I see the present and can’t help but feel lost in this sea of sand, wind, and the sun. Its not the southern coast, it’s not what I used to love. It’s not you and me and what we believed we wanted from each other.

and maybe I could live forever
If not ever I had known
that you’d be waiting here whenever I am all alone

All of that is done and over with. As the years progress, I can’t keep hiding from cities where your memories exist. I can’t keep searching for you on the streets of my mind. You are not there and you never were. I just have to accept that. Growing up means letting go and hopefully I can finally be done with these thoughts. These foolish memories of pretending that this was what I wanted in the end. We were never going and that’s a fact. One day, I’ll finally go back. One day I’ll finish writing you that letter and send it postmarked San Diego. Its then you’ll know I am not coming back with you.




In this whole journey of purging unnecessary things, I never realized how many things I kept. OKAY LIES. I have realized how many things I’ve kept, my closet and room are true testaments of that notion.  Materialistically, I keep everything. Anything you can see with the naked eye. However upon going through some old email accounts (yes I have various email accounts), I never realized how much crap I keep electronically. It’s amazing what you can do with unlimited storage space! It’s one thing to go through 1908 emails of junk mail but 2000 emails of the past? It’s time to move on.

They say to move on you have to reevaluate why you kept these things to begin with. It’s easy to put an emotion behind an article of clothing, or a lifetime of moments. Its the memories that wrap around the items, but what emotion can you bring forth with an email? After going through my email accounts the past year, I realized I was holding on to everything. I don’t just mean old Who What Wear emails, I literally mean everything. I’ve kept mean emails, sad emails, photos that I didn’t have the heart to show anyone let alone delete, receipts for just about anything you can think of. I’ve used my email as a scrapbook of bullshit. If my closets were a scrapbook of my debts, my emails were a scrapbook of my life on the web. I could just easily delete everything. Delete every malicious thing I have ever read about myself but something keeps me holding on to it. It’s like the constant emails I get from every store I’ve shopped at. Some of these stores I haven’t set foot in for years but their emails still fill my inbox. I don’t shop there. I can’t remember the last item of whatever clothing I wore from there but something keeps me subscribed. This weird psychological bullshit feeling that I need this. Holding on to these things will make me stronger.

We all know how that ends.

I didn’t need the clothes to make me happy. I didn’t need the debts that accumulated after all those purchases. I sure as hell don’t need an email from a person telling me what a fuck up I am. Besides, I am awesome, I don’t need an old email to tell me differently.

With that stated. Goodbye old emails. Goodbye old chats. Goodbye old photographs that only make me more upset. Goodbye old stores I haven’t shopped at since the early 2000. Goodbye to you for wasting all my time. Goodbye to all that.

Hit unsubscribe.

Then send.