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Were I back home on the upper left coast, I probably wouldn’t often sit bolt upright at three am with the thought: WTF am I doing?
I’d have lots of validation every time I went to the dog park, the laundromat, got on the bus, went to the coffee house– there would be lots of me-s everywhere I looked.
What living here in the south has taught me is how to be alone and how to take care of the way I feel without any help.
There are plenty of exiles and refugees in the world, and I am one of the luckiest. I didn’t have to learn a new language, exactly, or worry about la migra, or get beaten up because I look different. So I have little to complain about. But that won’t stop me.
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