I’d like to think I’m getting used to living back in here.
I mean I’m not crying anymore wishing I were somewhere else and each day I’m learning how to deal with my inevitable situation. Plus it’s almost been a month and amidst the month I’ve been here, I think I’ve become a little stronger? I classify dry cheeks as a good indication that I’m getting by.
But still there are some moments where I’ll slip, I’ll get weak and long for San Francisco again. I’ll wake up one morning and forget I’m in SJ. My mind will go on this mad trip wanting to believe I’m just dreaming.
Though eventually reality quickly hits as I glance out my window for a second. There I see nothing but bushes, flowers, and an empty sidewalk corroding my vision. Instead of feeling peaceful among this image, I’m instead thrown back into withdrawal – me wanting to be back in the city.
I’ve had mornings like this. But this morning was slightly different.
I woke up feeling like I shouldn’t be here. I woke up with the intention of leaving SJ, whether momentarily or permanently, my heart felt like leaving. And for no other reason than to just be in the presence of the city, my body wanted to relocate itself for that moment. I had this sudden urge to hear the city traffic, to feel the wind in my face, to feel the rush on the streets. My state of withdrawal was deep. All my senses were reflective of a bad case of nostalgia. My nose could smell the streets, my eyes could see the MUNI, and my body could feel the fog.
Physically I was in SJ, mentally I was in the city. I couldn’t connect the two as if at this moment I didn’t want to. As if my heart made a decision to stay this way and will continue to feel this way until I’m back.
It’s a bittersweet feeling, really. But more so a vicious cycle I’m stuck in.
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04-21-10
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