it's strange being back in san diego, especially since this place has never really been "home" to me. i've always associated this city with school-induced headaches and my burgeoning inferiority complex.
it was even more strange when i drove back "home" to OC to visit my parents in a house so remodeled that it hardly resembles the house i grew up in. the hallways and bedrooms are in the same familiar places, but my dear baby sister is all grown up into a beautiful young woman and my father and stepmother have gone completely psychotic with religious zeal.
these past few days i have laughed and cried and shouted at the top of my lungs. i have climbed on precarious shelves to reach inside cobweb-festooned carboard boxes of my old things in the garage, untouched since i left the house after college, and pulled out old favorite books to bring home and old photos to smile at, and old journals to read through.
it's strange, but good, being back.
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