Items

• 2020-10-27

  Home is Not a Place, But a Feeling

  In San Ramon, I feel lonely. I don’t feel like here is where my home is. Whenever I go to San Diego or am with my sister I feel happy again and at home. I feel safe with her. I feel free driving down a winding road with the windows down, music blasting, and wind harshly hitting my face and blowing my hair in every direction. I like getting to eat good, homemade meals at her house. It’s my escape from the “real world’ or the days in San Ramon that repeat themselves endlessly. I remember going to the beach and feeling the sand in my hands as I usually nervously play with it when there isn’t any conversation. I hear my sister’s friends making a hut and blasting their speakers. I remember walking further to be alone and sitting right before the shore. I listen to my own music in my earbuds and feel the tears start streaming down my face. My sister comes over to find me and laughs, not at me but because she doesn’t understand why I’m crying and knows I shouldn’t be sad at least not now. I begin to laugh too because I’m only crying since I wish I could live there too. This memory is important to me because it was such a fun trip and I feel most comfortable in San Diego or just when I’m with her. She understands completely how I always feel and validates why I act certain ways. In the dark days of Covid and having the same conversations over and over in San Ramon, San Diego is where I go to break that cycle and stay sane to be honest. It’s my motivation to keep trying and to stay calm since I know no matter what I get to go down and see her again and again.