Five years ago this week, I left the rented room in Richmond, California that I had been living in for the past seven months, packed my couple suitcases and my two very vocal cats, and got in the car with my mom to drive down to Los Angeles. I didn’t know what awaited me there. I knew only three people (and two of them weren’t even there at the time), and I had no real plan. But I knew that staying where I was wasn’t an option. I had been planning for this moment for over a year, and when the time came, I remember just throwing caution to the wind and saying to myself, “well, I guess we’ll see what happens.” I wasn’t thinking of it as a home because a home wasn’t a thing I had any concept of – for me.