How to Move from Alaska to California

Quickly. Don’t look back. There is no traffic there, but also no hope — at least not for you. Those empty roads are not the ones made for your tread anymore, you diamond. You are destined for greater. Greater rent, greater air pollution, greater population density. Oh, you lucky girl.

Don’t apartment hunt. Move into the first bedroom that’s available in an apartment with that one guy you met at a hockey game that one time and you thought was okay. Learn that he is not okay. Learn that he is an alcoholic and, in the nighttime, your apartment becomes the crash course for whatever mixture is lining his stomach. Wonder why the wine is missing and the door is unlocked. Pray for elsewhere. Look for elsewhere.

Keep a suitcase packed.

Cry on Hollywood Boulevard once. Maybe twice. Those days happen. Let the tears leave crust trails on your cheeks — yes, the same cheeks that have lost their elasticity. Ignore the Botox advertisements. You are young. You are so young.

Say yes. Say yes too many times. Say yes until your teeth are tired of clenching for the last letter. Get hurt. Scream no until you are open enough to say yes again. Make a mistake that you will never talk about again. Don’t tell anyone. Cry alone. Laugh alone. Learn to be alone. Learn to like it.

When Solstice comes around, you will not care. You cannot care. The sun is always in California. Always beating down even when you are sweating out a fever under the covers of the usually too-hot duvet. You cannot cherish what is given. Instead, you cherish the rain. This will be a first.

Get homesick. Get real sick. Puke up tequila. Toss your feelings on the floor. Miss the man on the other side of the world. Get honked at. Both in traffic and while walking down the street. Curse both. Fucking men.

Eat a shit ton of tacos. Order Postmates too much. Who knew Montezuma’s Revenge could get you here?

Breathe. Breathe deeply. You are here. You did it. Every painful moment led you to here and prepared you for here. You will have your heart broken again. And things will no doubt be hard again. But you did it.

You can miss the mountains. You can miss the inlet. You can miss things and not want them back. But when you leave Alaska, leave quickly.