Has been so weird.
Being broke in the city is really hard. I suppose being broke anywhere is hard. However, here I feel like im not supposed to succeed. Maybe its just the feeling of knowing that this city is not my life. People spend years trying to make this city home. Some will conquer. I just don't want to.
I love the cold air. I love the ocean. I love walking the streets knowing I am in San Francisco. I love the tall buildings. I love they mystery of this city. I love that I feel like I'm walking around in someones unfinished novel.
I just don't like the bus. I don't like the discontent on the faces of the people I see every day. On the bus. On the sidewalk. In stores. I don't like being afraid. I don't enjoy the discomfort.
This city has a way of lifting me up when I don't see it as a possibility. It also has the ability to make me feel like my nerves are on a frail wire hanging over the edge of a razor blade. Like nothing is in my control. Temptation on every corner.
It could be so easy to fall if you let go for even a second. Keeping a tight grasp of reality is hard. I live in a technicolor dream state. Painful pitiful precious.
I think I just need a pet. Maybe more space. Less bus rides. I am thinking more than necessary.
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