west coast

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.

4/12/2009

 

Advertisements

The Oregon Trail.

When you embark on a journey, you always set out to find yourself. In your wonderland expectations of personality and living. You run to the highest mountains and sink in the deepest seas. Crave the adventure of new experiences and wish for completely new beginnings. When I packed my bags, I wished it was for forever. I wished that I could be a lost soul and roam the coast until I found myself again. That I could run away to the mountains and be lost amongst the greenery settings. All the years I hid behind the shadows, I never realized how much I missed the sun.

10437774_10203114002704397_8558157437811873988_n

There is a picturesque magic of the western coast. Something people seldom see. Sometimes even we that reside on the west coast, become so jaded by our own thoughts that we forget how beautiful we have it. If I could photograph every line of the journey, I would. Even photographs wouldn’t do it justice. The magic of the greens from the trees, the beauty of the waters so clear, and how the air just fills your lungs with this joyous pure emotion. If this was forever, I would take it. Take every last bite of this green earth and return to the trails of Oregon. I am living in a dream and only reality could bring me down to earth.

10513396_10203114006384489_5500139977286339699_n

I spent a lifetime hiding in the shadows of my misery, missing opportunities of the sun. The roads that lead to nowhere seem to guide you home. Most days, I don’t even know where home is. Home is a combination of here to there and a little bit of everywhere. Passenger seats and confessing my deepest hopes to the dashboard of road companions. Where do we go from here? To the deep blue seas and the frigid waters of the lakes hidden in the trees. To the people that make you feel alive and the strangers that hit you with the reality of coming home. I am never ready to go home. Never ready to even entertain the idea of returning back to reality. All I could ever want is to hide amongst the trees and lose myself in the picturesque scenery.

10486070_10203114008384539_2270656722838005493_n

The greener the city, the prettier the sunset. Seeing stars for the first time with clear eyes, that have been lost amongst the concrete buildings. At any minute this would be over and I will run back home. Home seems like a distant memory and some days, I am afraid to go home. Afraid of conforming to everyone else’s standards. Afraid of being stuck under the same four walls of my insecurities. The journey is almost over and through the smiling and the laughter, I feel home. Something I haven’t felt in the years of journeys of my youth. Something that was always lost in the translation. It doesn’t matter how far I go in my lifetime, I am always going to go home. Even if most days, home is just a distant memory.

One day I’ll return to the cities too beautiful to explain with words. One day I will find a way to leave home and find out where I really belong. Until that moment I regroup and return to my same four walls, to plan my next escape. All life is just another chance to escape, and one day I won’t come home. I’ll find my way back to you, I’ll find where I belong.

One day.

10414454_10203121508172029_5652050236106301528_n