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At First
I've been dreaming about San Francisco since the day I left it. My uhaul tore through the small streets of the Tenderloin district as fast as I could get out of there, because I've always been terrible with goodbyes. I had always felt uncertain about leaving SF, considering the 1st time I left it to Seattle.. I came back two years later pleading for its forgiveness...

But here I was again, in the uhaul, driving with my chihuahua and my new boyfriend down to his home in Los Angeles. I'm not exactly sure why I did this, but I had some kind of hope after 5 years of knowing him that this was the right idea.

Months have passed inbetween that time, and I've had the hardest time to collect all that has gone on. Everyday is a story, every hour is paragraph, every minute is a sentence, and every second is a word. I sat there smoking in my pajamas outside of my apartment. To the left of me  laid the EZ Lube station, and to the right of me laid "The God Shop".

Giant green flickering neon letters sprayed the words "TRUST GOD" in the front of the shop, while a 16ft bloody jesus on a crucifix erected itself on the lawn amongst the other bloody jesus artifacts that laid hammered into the ground. The shop is campy colorful cemetary of sorts for these statues, and in some form of humorous irony, its the death of the imitation of death.

Inside laid my boyfriend, who has come to sleep at 8pm and awake at 7am nowadays. The neighbors upstairs Christy and Anthony were fighting again, and I could hear the sounds of 'stop!' and smacking even from 15 feet of the apartment. I looked up towards the horizon and you could make the faint sense of the stars blowing in the warm Los Angeles breeze (even in January), and the black shadows of the Palm trees that made this city so famous.


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