I can say I very much regretted coming back before I hit San Joaquin County.
Drivers were assholes before I was back here. And, it seems the minute I passed the county line, the trash was on the side of the road. Maybe I'm being a bit dramatic about the latter, but it's so noticeable here. It's like 'side-of-the-road trash' is very much not a priority here. I, in fact, remember a time when I was riding with someone and they threw trash out their window. Now, mind you, this is a garbage person, but there was no second thought, and that's the most depressing thing.
But that's how I feel about this place now: garbage place, with garbage people.
I have this thing that whenever I go home, I feel like I'm missing out. Well I used to. There was so much happening, and I always felt like I was missing out. This may be the stem of my 20-depression crash. When I moved up here, at first I still felt like I was missing out. And then somehow, I came to realize that I was missing out on my life by focusing on what I was missing out.
I don't think I'm fully free of that missing out feeling, but if I move further from LA, the less I will care. I won't be 'reasonably' close enough to do anything about it.
Ultimately, I want to not care. I want to stop not fully enjoying my life because of this focus on what I'm missing out.
This weekend, I didn't focus on what I was missing out. I was able to brush it off with more ease than before. I was half a day away! There's nothing I can do about it! I was by myself at the edge of the world and it was amazing.
There was sun, and clouds, and green. There was drizzle, and wind, and warmth. It takes a strong soul to look past they grey and enjoy it for what it is. My goal in life is to become a strong soul.
Will I be moving here? I don't know yet. I asked my mom for a sign that moving there was in the cards. Like with last Monday, I received no sign. (I should mention that she's been dead since I was three and talking to her is comforting.) I attempted to enjoy the drive back as much as I could. (People were jerks.) But still no sign.
If things are supposed to line up, they will. Moving back in with my dad is a no go. This would be the easiest way to find me dead before the year is up. Staying here is killing me slowly, and steadily. I'm talking about physical health wise. Mental health, I believe I can improve, but it'll always be a thing.
I don't know what comes next. But that's the fascinating thing about all of this, isn't it? As Natasha Bedingfield wisely once sang, "the rest is still unwritten."
and maybe when she's dead and gone I'll get some sleep