The place I keep in my memory is Cancun — summer of 2022, right after I graduated from Cal State Long Beach.
My cousin invited me. Actually, she forced me. It was non-negotiable for her, and for me… it was the first time in years someone insisted I take a break.
I saved a thousand dollars through Acorns.
Paid the hotel with a credit card I shouldn’t have used.
Packed my sadness and left.
At the time, I was depressed.
Lost.
Heavy with the feeling that I didn’t belong anywhere — not here, not there, not even inside my own life.
And then I stepped into Cancun.
My cousin was in her own chaos — building her dream home, arguing with life, dealing with her own loops. But even with all that noise, I found peace in the people there. The locals were kind. Warm. Present. Human in a way that reminded me what it feels like to be alive.
I remember walking onto the beach and seeing the world float beside me:
Muslim families.
Americans.
Europeans.
Latin Americans.
People from everywhere.
All of us standing in the same ocean, the same sun, the same moment.
I had never seen water that blue in my life.
In L.A., our beaches are beautiful but dirty.
In Cancun, you could see straight to the bottom — clear, warm, calm.
It rained in short bursts and then the sun returned like it had never left.
And for the first time in a long time…
I slept.
No insomnia.
No waking up at 2 a.m.
No anxiety.
Just… rest.
The moment the plane began its descent back into Los Angeles, I felt it:
the depression creeping back in, the tightness in my chest, the heaviness filling my body again.
I knew I was home — but not in the good sense.
So yes… Cancun is the place I’d love to return to.
Not just because it was beautiful,
but because it was the first place
that let me breathe again.
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