I'm feeling utterly weighed down by this place; by the fact that my home is so silent and akward and I'm that little girl again- when it's finally her time at dinner to talk about her day at school, everyone starts to get up and clear the dinner table around her. I feel invisible. It's killing me. I dream about San Diego, about walking five miles a day with my asthma and bad hips and enjoying every step. I dream about the cafe, about the comic book store, about the flowers lining the side of the road by that car dealership and how soft their petals were. Yes, I dream about Mr. Mraz, it's inevitable. His music has affected me like no other as of yet. He was the one who brought me to San Diego in the first place, and has brought words back to my fingertips. But I think what he represents in my dreams is that feeling of peace I found at the idea of leaving here, if only for a little while, to where no one knew me.
I want that peace back with all my heart. I have a feeling that the sky imploded in that one dream because of my apprehension to the thought of going back to find it dull and worn like the walls around me now. I'm afraid of being hurt- again. But I want it, need it. I need to go back. It's in my blood, there's no avoiding it.
So I've started a savings account and will be tucking away what I can, little by little, so by the time I've finished with school I can just pack up and go.
...
just three more years... just three more years... *sigh*
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