I went to LA. I fell in love.
Not with a person, of course. With this city. While dirty, grungy and a little rough around the edges in places, there is also an ethereal beauty. The air is filled with dreams – some achieved, some in the making and others breaking. It’s almost like I could feel it.
Some say it’s a city of followers – it’s a place where people come to be someone, and lose themselves in the process. I think that’s pretty normal in any place we go in life, though. We’re all mostly searching for who we really are in one way or another. People out here are just more obvious about it, I suppose.
I’m in a place where moving makes sense. Texas has more memories than I care to remember, and way too many people moving faster in life than I am. I feel like fewer people are searching, and most of them just settled with whatever seemed to make sense at the time. I don’t think I’m there. Perhaps the decision was already made for me, but settling isn’t even an option.
I feel like I belong somewhere that people are still trying – constantly striving for some sort of validation, acceptance or attention. Sometimes all of the above. I’m okay with admitting that I’m in a place where all of those things seem like what I need.
With all of that said, recently more than ever, I’ve been reminded of the importance of hope. Faith in the unseen. The belief that something better IS out there and someday it will make sense. I have hope tattooed on my back. I forget about it sometimes, but catch a glance of it here and there. And I am reminded that without hope, we all crumble.
Then I took this photo on a random street in LA. Notice the street name.
I don’t believe in coincidences. Time for plans.