Atlantis...@ seaworld

Date: 9/16/2019

Last night I fell into a horrible sleep as I would awake sweating, tossing and turning as my finger continued to throb and send shooting pains into my arm and wrist as my home sickness flooded into my subconscious. I began to take myself back to trips to sea world—if they were with my birth mom and little brother to the point where I had to grow up way too fast and I only would be stressed beyond belief or the trips my old best friend would take me on as I would panic that my ex boyfriend would not only be there but be dating the one girl I couldn’t stand out of spite. So I understand where the anxiety and paranoia stemmed from, yet it wasn’t just that—now it was the end of so many of my childhood memories: San Diego was to be buried. It started with sea world due to the blackfish movie along with the lack of profits. Then, balboa park and fiesta island and slowly they wanted to put San Diego under and restart. How? We were never really too certain but all I thought about was the connection between Atlantis, going under/ being buried by sand specifically, and the fact that I woke up this morning, on the easy coast, as if I just got off the journey to Atlantis ride; fully soaked and out of breath.