29 CHARLOTTECity life wasn’t how I remembered it.
Within the first week of arriving in Los Angeles, I’d gotten myself a job as a barista and had made a couple of new friends who liked to party. But as much as I tried to fit in, something still stuck out like a sore thumb . . . and I was beginning to think that something was me.
My mother had called a few more times, trying to ensure I’d go see a doctor. My father had even called and insisted that if I’d only come back, I could work for his company after all.
But now that I’d had my awakening, their attempts didn’t affect me the way they’d hoped. Instead, I listened to their concerns, considered everything they said, and hung up feeling even better about my decision than I had before.
And every single time, I’d wonder with a bittersweet
