"After being asked so many times if I’m afraid of all the traveling I do, I came to the realization that what scares me most is staying in one place for too long. You can always panhandle for gas money, get your car fixed, shoot a creepy rapist in the dick; but there is no escape from being stuck in a life you settled for, in a town that grows old fast, seeing the same faces every day, and living with the idea that you once could have done anything or gone anywhere. So my advice is this; if you find yourself constantly yearning for more, keep traveling. Never settle for anything that doesn’t make your heart ache in a good way; and when you find your heart yearning for a singular place
And you don’t find it wanting anything else,
Then let your heart grow roots.”
"Given the fact that you know me like the back of your hand, you’d be delirious to think that I wouldn’t drive 2,980 miles just because your acting like a suspicious fuck."
"If I have to fight for your attention or find myself being bothered by the lack of, then I probably won’t even want it anymore. I’ll passive aggressively get myself over you in the snap of a finger. It’s astonishing how easily I fall in and out of emotions that I feel so passionately. Lucky for me I can do it easily. It’s unlucky for you however, because nobody loves or hates as quickly and passionately as I do. The choice is yours. The most terrifying individual on the planet is an intelligent woman who doesn’t need your validation and feels whatever the fuck she wants when she wants to feel it."
I spent 5 years believing that small town was home, and I was homesick for it constantly. I ignored the feeling that made my gut twist into abstract shapes every time I returned to visit. I told myself it must be related to the fact that my home was so unfairly and unexpectedly ripped away from me. I constantly felt like a child. I felt that I was treated unfairly. I felt that the world owed me something. My misery made me superior to others. What a selfish fucking prick I was. It took 6 years of me running around the country, trying to plant roots in different states only to up and leave again yearning for Amador, to realize that it wasn’t home. It might have been for 18 years, but it most certainly wasn’t now.
No, home was no longer where I grew up. Home was where I fell in love for the first time. Home was with the people who taught me what real love was like. It was with the only father I’d ever known. It was with the craziest sports fans I’d ever met. It was with you, and this pitiful baseball team, in this shit hole stadium that I had fallen so madly in love with. It was raw, and passionate, and fierce. It was fighting with you at 2am because I had drank too much and was upset over the A’s losing. It was fighting with you at 2am because I had drank too much and you were upset over the 49ers losing. It was fighting with you at 2am because I had drank too much. Period. I was out of my mind, irrationally, immaturely, bat-shit crazy. You and baseball loved me anyways. It took me six years of running around to realize that this city was home, and that nostalgia is a undeniably dirty liar. I’m sorry that I had to drive 3,000 miles away from home to realize it. I’m not sorry that my yearning for something more is what drove you away. I’ve always know I’m a little left of center. I’ve always known I’ve never really fit in. I haven’t always known where home was, or what love was, or that baseball and you would create a fire inside of me that wouldn’t ever burn out.
Home is with you, watching our favorite baseball team lose, in a shitty stadium, where I’m too drunk and you’re pissed off and everyone around us, including myself, is absolutely crazy, but you fearlessly, passionately, and undeniably love me anyways.