i feel like i haven't had either the free time or the inclination to write here in so long. there's been so much going on, in my head and heart, and a lot of it i couldn't understand (some of it i still don't).

i've decided to move to Portland. my goal is to move there by April 1st. i went there last weekend and spent 4 days and fell in love. i will never trash talk Los Angeles for the things it's taught me; if it wasn't for the experience of moving and living here, i would never have had the guts to pursue my writing. now i've been here long enough that i'm ready to acknowledge that while this place offers a lot of good things, it isn't a good fit for me. i grew up in an intimate city, and the overwhelming size of this place makes me feel lost. i'm looking forward to exploring a new city that is more of a fit for me.

since i realized that i wanted to do this, i've felt restless and upset, not knowing what i really wanted until i got there. after the trip, i felt like the depression i had been carrying around here for months dissolved. my social desire came back, and i'm so happy about that. i'm elated but also afraid, knowing this is the first time i am moving away from everything that resembles a family. at the same time, i know i have to move forward, and i feel i truly will by following this lead.

it's not too often that one stands at the crossroads of one's own life. i feel bewildered and happy all at the same time. i am perpetually humbled by my own humanity.