There is an overly long, unnecessarily drawn-out, almost morbidly detailed answer to that question, but what I usually reply is that it was just time for me to get out into the world and make it on my own.
Which is, for the most part, a truthful answer. The more complete answer would be that it was long past time for me to get out and make it on my own.
Going back to San Diego, there are people and places I revisit that serve to remind me that choosing to leave was both a good and bad decision.
The city itself is one of the most beautiful in the world, filled with an overabundance of natural and man-made wonders. From the beaches to Balboa Park, from the bay to the east county hills, there is always somewhere nice and something enjoyable to do somewhere in San Diego.
However, like all cities In the world, San Diego has distractions that can wreak havoc upon a man's ability to break free from the limitations of the environment he was born in, especially if that environment was one of discord and impoverishment.
Driving through the more pleasant areas of San Diego when I visit, Spending time with the more successful and well-adjusted friends I grew up with, does serve to implant the idea in the ol' cranium that maybe I could find myself living in the land of flip-flops and coconut-scented sunscreen again one day.
Of course, that would mean having to find a job that pays 75% more than I earn now so I won't have to live in a tent under an overpass in National City, and learning how to live without seasonal changes in the weather again...
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