I left Santa Cruz six months ago and, to be honest, it's driving me nuts.
As much as I love being home and near the people and familiarities that remind me that this is in fact home; it hardly feels like it anymore. My mum remarked the other day that I was very emotional lately, undoubtedly thinking that something was going on at work or in my relationship. I couldn't exactly place it then, but I think I'm slowly getting more and more distant from the world.
For the first seven years of my life I was the only child in a sea of adults and later of young children. Adults with lots of cousins and siblings and family that they have learned to love and live with. I was, and in some ways still am, an outsider to that world. I am still struggling to find my place in my very loud, silly, mixed, and quirky family. The friends who know me well enough or that didn't meet me until college know that I am all of those things in addition to others. In the midst of my family, from whom I inherited a large majority of my temperament, I am quieter and prefer to be alone in all the noise. If you were really lucky, you were around to accompany a quiet me when the world was too loud. Most of the time though, that miracle was granted to my ever-growing collections of books and universes and my puppy. I've grown into my family a lot over that last couple of years, but occasionally I still escape into those worlds, whether on the page or in my mind amidst the stars.
I've discovered that the crystal clear night sky and the calm ocean brimming with life and energy though every sense was where I discovered the home my books and headphones had once provided. It is that sense of belonging that I want to be a constant in my life, no matter the physical manifestation.
For now I'll just keep swimming
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