It’s crazy how I fled to California for the freedom to be myself, yet I left so much of who I was behind—drawing, motocross, swimming. Don’t get me wrong; I still swam in the ocean every chance I got, but pools were strictly a no-go. As my pencil glides across the paper, I can’t help but wonder if I left all of those things back here on purpose. Like parts of myself that no longer fit who I needed to become, which is wild because I fell back into football the minute I got into Berkeley. The one part of my life here that I never really had a passion for, yet I made it my whole world out there.
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