and i sit in a beautiful bookstore and all that i can think of is escaping

my early 20s have treated me very well so far-- so well, in fact, that i have discovered many things that most people never will: that being alive is both a difficult skill & a delight. it is the most difficult skill to learn, being alive, but you must struggle to do so. you must take life so seriously, like a squirrel who lives with such ferocity that, in the trees or grass or wire-lines running between houses, it is constantly searching for the next thing.

but it doesn't always work. time passes and the wonder has gone away and i'm confused; i am filled with the sadness that comes with confusion; i am filled with an anger and regret and jealousy of others who are much happier and more beautiful than i am. others who have the energy to do the things, to read the books, to listen to the music & go to the parties. to love, to love every day, to love & love and love and love.

i want to go very far away. i will die if i do not travel. i am sick of my home, wherever it is. i will suffer an agonizing death if i do not escape colorado, USA. i yearn for new zealand, or perhaps france, or perhaps st. petersburg, or perhaps i will float open-eyed in the yellow river. 

but there is something that i am finally learning that most people have already known: i am horribly and terrifically lost. there is no color, the flowers are gone. so i will escape, & from now on, my name shall be traveler.