My Love, My Life

A girl basking in the sunlight: a self portrait.

Last week I had a brief moment of clarity: I'm happy and, besides every day frustrations (and in spite of or perhaps because of the super shitty things that seem to occur more frequently these days), always am. The happiness that enveloped me had little to do with it being my last day at a job I was sick of, little to do with the job I was about to start, and little to do with my general position in time. However, it has everything to do with my position in space. I'm so lucky to live in America's Finest City; I love my city so much, and just knowing that it's so important for me to live here, that I will do whatever it takes to keep a roof over my head on my own, means so much. It means that my heart belongs here. I have a feeling that this is the city I'll always return to, that no matter where life takes me 619 will be my area code, that home will always be SD. San Diego both satisfies me and makes me want more. Like, a lot more. And after I've experienced the best the world has to offer maybe I'll come back, and breathe a sigh of contentment.

That's not to say I don't do that now. Driving around, seeing skies that were filled with both the fluffy white clouds that look almost tangible and make everything seem better and the dark, ominous clouds whose threat of rain excites me like a little girl, running in my beautiful Balboa Park early in the morning with the last few raindrops illuminated by the rising sun, how could I want anything more?

Which brings me to wondering about love. Much to my regret, my mind keeps wandering back to one certain boy. Time has somehow caused me to view him in this glorified way, which makes the ongoing task of stopping those romantic feelings slow going. But I do have one large flaw to hold on to: if he's so content with living so close to where we both grew up, content with never having lived more than an hour away from his parents, and (most importantly) content with remaining that way, then I have to accept that that's just not good enough for me. Which is starting to be OK. I know there will one day be some all-consuming great love like all the songs say... I guess I just miss being in love.