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Hotel Circle

Every day on my way to SeaWorld, I pass by Hotel Circle, a stretch of hotels that hug the curve of the 8 freeway, ranging from budget-friendly motels to upscale suites. There’s everything from no-frills roadside inns to mid-tier chains with pools and free breakfast, all the way to polished, classy accommodations with elegant lobbies and conference spaces. It’s a surreal lineup, and I can’t help but laugh at the irony of it all. Not long ago, those hotels were my lifeline, a revolving door of temporary stays when I was running around homeless in San Diego. I’ve probably stayed in nearly every one of them—sometimes scraping together just enough cash for a night’s rest, other times meeting people for hookups, or using them as a quick escape from the tension of staying at my dad’s place. Each hotel became its own chapter in a story I wasn’t ready to write yet—some moments marked by desperation, others by fleeting comfort or thrill.









































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