I made my mom cry because I acted different, she said she doesn't love the idea of me moving, but is letting me do it because she wants me to have adventure in my life even if it sets me back in other areas. She wants me to have the life she never did, one where I can be free and loose- able to make decisions which hopefully straighten things out for me. I made her cry because I acted like I was that bird. I was smacking my head against the windows at any cost to just get the fuck out. As she yelled and cried, I booked a flight.
I typed up a resume and printed out thirty.
I got a call from my friend who tried convincing me to stick with the plan. My roommate was in the background reminding him of things to say, things he needed to say to persuade me. I was slightly irked, but it was so good to hear his voice that it didn't matter. I felt like I didn't matter to him at all until he told me "you belong in San Francisco." Berkeley was like acid spit in his mouth and I felt silly and bashful for even considering it. I was out on my porch in the cold listening to the same shit my mom and everyone else has been telling me, but his voice was all I wanted in that moment. I wanted to cry and ask what the fuck I'm doing, what I'm losing is greater, what I'm certain of is little. Nothing is planned, and he told me that there's no way for there to be a plan because I've got to live without one to make one. It makes sense to me, but I can't live where I don't have a place and I can't work where I don't have a job. All I want is a plan and all I have is a plan to make a plan.
"Just stay here, you can't go back"
"you're an adult, you don't have to listen to anyone."
Everything is complicated and I fell in love with two places and I can't seem to get a grip on either. I fell in love with being away from the place where my life was built upon, where I've always felt so obligated, loved, stuck, angry, happy, blissful, scared, and enchanted by.
I never meant to hurt anyone and in the moment or the time span where everything needs to be about me flying away I am accused of being self-indulgent and selfish. There's nothing I can do to make it okay to my mom or to even make sense of it to myself. I'm up in the air, I'm crashing with wings and I feel utterly helpless to stop it. I see myself, tomorrow, getting off the 28 bus and seeing them and feeling completely wrong. I see myself sitting in an airport alone, landing, and taking the BART to Berkeley and seeing my friends and feeling so right about it. I worry that I'll go to thirty places in SF and get plenty of promising job interviews and going to Berkeley and getting none. I worry that both will hold something for me, but not everything...and I worry that my mom won't stop crying.
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