Even though I usually hate taking flights, I felt unusually safe curling up in my small confined seat. I can cry and I can let the most annoying and terrifying thoughts wander. Everything on the flight stays on the flight. I felt safe.
The moment I got off the plane, J welcomed me with the gayest energy and gossip. I also felt safe. We talked about lingering feelings, joked about stupid reactions when we couldn’t move on, and resonated with each other with the gayest songs driving back home. I felt safe. I can be me.
We went inside the house. J’s mom gave me a big warm hug and cooked me with British dinner. I cuddled with their black golden retriever. She licked my entire palm. I felt safe because I felt at home.
All the troubling thoughts are still there, but I felt comfortable sitting next to them now and talking with them. Because life has a lot more to appreciate.
I learned that I didn’t like San Francisco. In San Francisco, I never felt safe. The streets aren’t safe. People there don’t make me feel safe. They are intense, they want to move fast, and they seek risk to create more. It motivates me to create and build over time, but I never feel safe, never feel settled, never feel satisfied.
I felt grateful that I could feel safe today.
Day3 of 30-day writing challenge.