But here: You’ve maybe moved a few times but I move a lot . I make friends, lose some, make friends, lose some, the occasional close ones and the best friends, lose some and make some again . This process happens a lot . Now here I am moving again . Leaving behind people then soon to make new ones .

Everytime I move I have this anxiety feeling, like I feel like I’m dreaming but I know I’m not . And once I get to the airport, it hits me . Every single memory made here rushes to my head and flashes over and over again, wishing I could go back to where I left from . This time seems different, it hit me earlier than usual . Probably because I’m older . My eyes teared as I walked in and out of this empty house . Flashback of every moment and picturing everything there . Even though a lot of them don’t seem significant . I’m gonna miss San Diego . This house, this state . But I’ll be back soon . 3 years isn’t so long right ?