After being away for a little over a month and being stuck in the airport for six hours waiting to hop on a 75 minute flight back to San Diego, I have forgotten what it was truly like to be home. Some family members try to make it clear that I don't live here... reinforcing the idea that I'm unwelcome.
Fuck. I don't feel like explaining. All in all... I feel lonely, unsure and most definitely homeless. I'm not at home in San Diego because I can't be myself nor visit friends the way that I wish to. I'm not truly at home in San Francisco because I'm not particular about roommates and it also doesn't feel right to be somewhere that your parents aren't near.
I'm an orphan that no one has time to acknowledge or understand.
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