I just done saying a prayer on the roof my building. Kinda funny thing for an atheist of fifteen years to do. Making it worse, I was fucking crying. Praying and crying? I don't think I had done that since one of my dogs ran away when I was nine.
But tonight, I wasn't praying to Allah or anybody like that. I was praying to San Francisco. The same dirty, stinky, loud city that I live in the middle of. Being up on the roof at night, surrounded by buildings and lights and giant Pepsi ads, I remembered, for a moment, what it was like when I first moved here in 2002. I was so full of hope, and I wasn't going to fail, like I had failed every other opportunity that had come my way before. This city was new to me, different, exciting. I was finally where I wanted to be, and the next six years or so were a long, educational journey that finally culminated in what I had always wanted and dreamed about.
Predictably, that fell apart faster than an Iranian earthquake shelter.
Tonight, I prayed to this city to help me, to give me one more chance. I promised I wouldn't fail this time. I can't fail. I got nowhere else to go.
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