Learning to live after almost drowning, when survival doesn’t feel like relief.

I wake up under California sun.

Palm trees. 
Blue skies.
Costco runs.

The kind of life I used to see on TV. 

California Love. 
California Dreamin’. 
California Gurls.

Songs I didn’t realise I was building a life around
until I got here.

And still… 

something doesn’t land.

Life keeps moving. 
I don’t quite re-enter it.

My friends in London still call it home.
They say come back 
like I only stepped outside for a moment.

California doesn’t feel like home either.

So I stay here. 

Somewhere in the middle.

Not quite here. 
Not quite there.

I barely post now.
Barely update anyone.

Half the time I don’t know how I feel.
The other half I don’t want to explain it. 

Silence is easier.

I open my CV.

My chest tightens. 
My shoulders fold in.

I close it again. 

Everything here looks clean. 
Too clean. 

Glass buildings. 
Teslas sliding past like they’re gliding on air.

Even the trees look edited. 

I can’t tell if I’m meant to be impressed
or uneasy.

You made it.
So now what?

Do something with it.
Something bigger.
Something that matters.

I open my CV again.

My chest tightens.
My shoulders curl in.

I close it.

There’s something else I keep circling.