Dear San Diego

The world's a strange place. Don't be a stranger. 
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Dear San Diego,

The sun was out this morning.

Warm against the windows, I stood for a while looking out over the field, a low mist still clinging to foot of the mountains.

Last night was one of those nights. Didn’t sleep, but dreamt awake of things come and gone.

At some point in all of this you gotta accept who you are. You gotta stop trying to hide it. Stop worrying about the backlash. Anything you say to the contrary’s just a lie.

If you’re still looking for who you are, you’re dangerous. Like old nitro glycerine. Nothing to trust, nothing to count on, one wrong move and it goes up. Tell yourself that’s not the case, but the body count always says otherwise.

Losing yourself’s worse. Cause you let it happen. You stood there and didn’t say anything when you should of.

It’s like peeling off your skin. Not because someone doesn’t like it, but because they hate theirs.

My whole life I had a girl. No matter where I went, she was always with me. I wasted years unable to come to the realization she was the one. Schizophrenic, possibly one of the greatest minds of her time, but it was that smile. Like Ally Sheedy in The Breakfast Club - it was always that smile.

Despite the prison of her mind and the chaos that dominated it, that smile was never unauthentic. It was either entirely real - or not there.

I stood at the window, the sun warm against my face, and realized that she’d always known.

And all of a sudden it hit me.

If you gotta go looking, you’re just wandering away from what you’re too afraid to face. But if you’ve got the guts to face it, you don’t gotta go nowhere.