Home is a feeling

Lately I have been thinking about San Francisco a lot. I miss it but I miss the San Francisco I remember.

San Francisco has become an absolute shit show. I mean it has been decades in the making but it is now the most expensive places to live for no damn reason other than Silicon Valley that has destroyed the city and its culture.

Anyway I just miss that period in my life. I was a fucking mess, messier than I am now but the experience in San Francisco, the people I have met in San Francisco have truly shaped me.

I just miss being able to go out my door and seeing Ocean beach. I miss my apartment shaking because of the incoming L train that comes every twenty minutes. I miss taking walks from Fisherman’s wharf to North beach to eat Italian deserts with my friend Aaron. I miss making random friends at a fancy hat shop. I miss getting invited to bougie events. I miss the Applebee’s bartender that would take me to speakeasies and give me all the free cocaine I wanted.

I miss the messiness. I miss the excitement. I miss meeting eccentric new people.

The last time I went it was weird. The gentrification that is happening in the Sunset is fucking bizarre. Out of all my friends only one, yes one can afford to live in the city still.

They say home is a feeling. I can confirm that. It’s just hurts to know I can never go home again.

Sunday Morning

The days have grown longer and harder to deal with. I’ve worked at my new job for three weeks and it already sucking my soul. I’m in a new town with no friends or family.

But I have you.

Although lately I feel like we have been drifting. I’m trying to rewire myself because I feel like everything sucks. Throwing pity parties are my specialty.

I look at your face when you are sleeping and it’s like you knew. You didn’t even open your eyes, you just pulled me into you.

And just for a second I realize, everything is going to be alright.

Everything is alright.

30 Day Blog Challenge Day 6

Day 6: What are you afraid of?

I’ve always been afraid of heights. I don’t know what it is but I hate being up high. I even went skydiving to get over this fear and let me tell you it didn’t work.

On a sad existential type of afraid tip, I’m scared of getting a divorce or losing my husband. No one will understand how much I love my husband and if things were to go south, I would completely lose it. Maybe that not healthy but he’s the greatest friend I have ever had, the greatest lover, my ride or die. This shit I feel is serious and I NEVER thought I would ever feel this way.

Enough with the cornball shit, I’m so scared of failing that I don’t even challenge myself and I hate it. I mean that also falls along the line that I’m scared to be super poor. Like I am poor don’t get me wrong but I have a very supporting family, always a place to stay and always something to eat. I pay my bills on time. I get to do nice things sometimes. I know a lot of people don’t have that support system but I also don’t like depending on people. It’s a stupid thing to do. So I take the easiest route, the stress free route and it’s honestly stupid but it’s hard. Hard to break out of comfort.

January 14 2019

I imagined today

I would cook the cheap pieces of steak

That’s been in our freezer for a mouth

With butter and mushrooms

And shallots

Salt and pepper

In a pan

Medium heat

Cooked half way

Tucked in a puff pastry

Baked to a golden brown

Slowly unraveling the pieces in you

In my hand

In my mouth

Tearing you down into pieces

With my teeth

Shredding you into fragments that

Make sense

Fragments easier to break down

To digest

To get every word, every syllable

Every roll of the tongue

Every bit of you

A Christmas Story

I waited anxiously for you outside the Embarcadero center. The BART was running late, you were on your way from your apartment in Oakland.

This was the first time we were going to hang out. It had been months of back and forth but I finally gave in. There was a magnetic force between us that could only be felt. No matter how much I pulled back, I always felt the whiplash of becoming closer to you. I didn’t want any part of it. I didn’t want any part of you. I felt myself bursting at the seams and I didn’t want you involved. Vulnerability is the enemy but I couldn’t help it. I was lonely and somehow you filled my void like a puzzle.

There you were, running up the stairs from BART. With your moppy brown hair that was always covered with a backwards hat, chapped lips, frail figure, and the iconic double denim outfit. I couldn’t help but smile every time I saw you.

You saw my smile and smiled back. You brought me close and embraced. He said “Sorry I was late. The BART is unpredictable.” I replied “Tell me about.” He laughed slightly and said “So what did you want to do?”

“I was thinking about going ice skating but when I got here for some reason the rink here is closed.”

“We can walk to the one downtown it’s not too far.”

“Yeah that would be nice me.”

We started to walk up Market. At first there was uncomfortable silences. You were still a stranger but with time it was easier to unravel you. We talking about our dreams of seeing the world, our love of writing and our favorite bands. The magnetic force made more sense with every word that spilled from your mouth. I hung on every word. I wanted to know you. I wanted you. It just wasn’t so easy.

We get to the ice rink downtown. It was my first Christmas in San Francisco and I hadn’t seen anything like it. A cityscape of tall building. Snowflake lights on every light pole. A huge Christmas tree outside of Macy’s covered in red and gold ornaments.

I couldn’t look up from the sky, the building, and the tree. It was what I envisioned my whole entire life. City dreams but in real time. I got lost until you said “You have a beautiful smile.” I locked eyes on him. I said “We should buy our tickets and get our skates. We don’t have much time until midnight.”

He bought the tickets for ice skating. I told him I could buy my own but he insisted. We sat down and tied up the rented ice skates.

You went on the ice first. I could tell it wasn’t your first time. I never have been ice skating. You could tell because I ended up falling a couple of times. After the third time, you reached your hand out to me. Your hand was soft and warm, comfort, everything I wasn’t but you smiled at me anyway.

We skated arm to arm. I had never felt so close to you, to anyone. We talked about our families. We talked about the upcoming holiday and how lonely it could be in the city. I didn’t feel alone anymore.

It was 11:20 and the last BART to Oakland left at 11:30. We rushed to get to the Powell Muni/BART station. We hugged goodbye and went our different ways. I hopped on the last L and by the time I got to West Portal, I had five text messages and three missed calls.

“Hey babe what are you up to?”

“Are you busy.”

“Why are you ignoring me?”

“Babe please I don’t understand why you aren’t texting me back.”

“Okay well I love you.”

None of them were from you. I started to cry because I wish one of them were. I wished I could let go, for the sake of me and him. I wished I could be free of the monsters inside of me. I wish I could be free on the infidelity.

Instead I text you and say “Sorry! I went out with a friend and left my phone at home. I love you babe.” Still wishing you were someone else.