1557 Noe Street, San Francisco

I got a new apartment, I’m moving this month. After three years here, might as well be three years wasted, I’m getting my own place, getting my own life back; having a place of my own, a home. Isn't that what I said when I moved here?

Will my life turn around amidst my insistent overture that I don’t want it to?

I sense a joy these days, like I feel that there is someone out there who loves me. A feeling that is usually limited to when I know that there is someone out there who loves me. Is there someone who loves me that I’m sensing, that I don’t know about yet? Doubt it.

For now, I’m caught up in the anxiety of the actual move. I have so much shit that I have no idea how to organize the move. I can’t make it haphazard like I’ve done before, making multiple trips as I was able to. If I did that this time, it would take a frustratingly long amount of time.