I haven't taken a breath for 30 days.

I couldn't do it anymore. I could see the front door to PHA, but I couldn't bring myself to walk through it. I had junked my '98 Ford Escort two weeks before because I realized it would take more than I bought it for in order to pass emissions (RIP Cherry Knotz...). I would come to work off the bus, soaked in sweat, struggling to mentally prepare myself for another day at the care facility. It's religiously run. I had been raised in religion since mid-childhood, but lost the light of it back in 2012 after the death of my mother. Work was a struggle. St. Louis was a struggle. Settling was more than a struggle - it was hell. Should I end the hell? As of late, I had been the glittering victor over my depression, but I was afraid this time would be different. I contemplated. Then I felt a voice. Not heard, felt.

'Alright, time to go.'

Alright. I sent the text:

"I just bought a bus ticket to LA" (I hadn't yet. Sorry, J.)

The response was delayed. J was driving. Like a responsible adult, he had turned his notifications to Do Not Disturb. An hour passes:

"For when? (That's a long ass bus ride!)"

"Tomorrow

Morning

Yep. Lol"

"Whaaa?! Where will you be staying?

Keep me posted along the way, ok?"

"I have no idea yet honestly. But I just fucking did it

I cannot stay here any longer

Lol

I will though"

"Ok. Right here if you need me. All ya gotta do is call!"

And then it was decided. With a lot of anxiety, a singular suitcase, and a sleepless night. I spent $100 of my last $400 for a bus ticket - passageway to the next phase of my life. My phone stayed constantly alight with text messages and missed calls from my managers, friends, and family that usually don't bother to reach out. I ignored them all and slept. The sun had made me nauseous (along with the knowledge that I had basically just fired myself and had no rent money, so, Los Angeles was kind of my option.) T dropped me off at the station the next morning on his way to work. He had been a great roommate for the month I had spent in emotional and mental limbo. His husky had slept in my room the night before. Dogs always know.

"Keep in touch!" And with a hug, I was on my way, on my own.

She loves me, I swear.

The bus ride was its own adventure. Passing through the humid grays and greens of the midwest into colorful, dry terrain made my heart pound a little faster. 60% fear, 40% excitement. Usually it's the other way around. The first eight hours were true agony if I'm being honest. I found myself in the only seat without an outlet. The bus was hot. Next to me, a man sat, rubbing coconut oil all over his body and apologizing for his smell. I have to admit, the oil didn't help. The poor guy was clearly homeless, covered head to toe in dirty crust, eyes red from drug use, alcohol, lack of sleep, or maybe all three.

"I used to live in LA..."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah. And then I got robbed. Went to my girl for support and she done dump me. I been homeless ever since."

"God, I'm so sorry."

I also remember secretly hoping I wouldn't end up that way. That sent me into my own weird guilt trip. His stop was somewhere in Texas, but before I could enjoy the empty seat next to me, I had volunteered it and found a seat with an outlet. That's where I met M.

The moment my heart started to beat in *exciterror* .

M ~ Thanks for letting me use this, kiddo. <3

M is beautiful. She had spent the first leg of the trip with a boy who I later discovered was not her boyfriend. Apparently this was an everyday occurrence for her. (Leech boys, I mean.) She's tall with a creamy complexion, mellow green eyes and a perfect smile. After a few hours of conversation, we had bonded in an uncanny way. Our childhoods are almost identical. She was heading South to start her life over after an rough upbringing. We made a third friend, Y, and together we braved three days of no showers, hot weather, and gas station food. When we said our goodbyes finally, we promised to keep in touch, and we have (M - streaks! Don't forget. xx)

Now I'm in an artist's loft, thirty days later with ten roommates. Today is my last full day here, because I finally (drumroll...) found an apartment! (Yes, me. Me and my terrible, six-feet-under, post grad credit. Never give up kids!). I've picked up a few part time jobs, the most fulfilling of which is walking A - the sweetest pit in the world. (It's strange living amongst enthusiastic pit buyers, sellers, and advocates, and simultaneously, amongst those who will stop at nothing to get them banned from pretty much everywhere. To the lady in the elevator: Fuck you. She was excited to see the barking ball of fur in your arms and you're not bleeding.)

I've consumed more coffee than I ever have in my life. I've tried my share of Whole Foods supplements, been handed fistfuls of weed from frat boys in hoodies walking down Grand , "Just because! We love it!" (Welcome to California!) , used my body wash as an all-purpose for weeks on end and found record-breaking prices for coin laundry. I've been in Dirt Nasty's house (thank you landlord, sorry Dirt.) I've been to the Hollywood sign (of course), and I've realized that my passion lies in writing, not acting ("Why are you here then? Seattle's more your spot.")

Qween of caffein.

I've made friends with gobs of aspiring creatives, and it gives me hope because even though right now we're all worth a little over the $150 in our bank accounts, we're becoming a collective. We're hungry for money, art, and change. I think that may be worth sticking around for. Watch us.

So! That's been the pause in my breath this month. I'm here, I have a roof, I have sustenance. And I think, for a while, Los Angeles has me.