Wanderlust

Trying to explain to an old Brat that the only thing that keeps them from something is distance,

is like trying to explain to the ex-millionaire that the only thing keeping them from something is money.

I am wanting.

If I end up leaving the current city I live in, I will have to cope with leaving one place where I meet very few dicks and consistently get to spend time with nice people. Every time I leave my house, there is someone here who makes me smile, and I hope I have done the same over the past year-and-a-half.

I'm always, eternally, constantly restless. I drive around at night. The first time in my life I have a home I love, and I'm still so. goddamn. restless.

Is it my age, my anxiety or both? Will it ever fucking go away? I've heard contentment is nice. I'd like to try it sometime. I get so restless, so anxious, so filled with the need to move, to go, that it paralyzes me and I do nothing. How's that for ironic?

I wake up in the middle of the night, heart pounding, with a feeling of imminent doom. I need to get us out now. NOW NOW NOW.

I know some of it is the anxiety. But I doubt that's all of it.

I'm sick of teevee. I'm sick of routine. I'm sick of boredom. I have never sat still in my life. As pilled up as I was sixth months ago, I still tapped my feet and pulled at my hair and yanked out my eyebrows, and tore the skin off of my lips. When I sleep at night, I rotate my ankles constantly.

I pray to whomever it concerns that it's just my age.

I feel your pain, blue box. And it is pain. At least for me. My stomach hurts, my throat threatens to close up if I don't go find some more interesting air, and someone sticks a half pound ball of molten magma in my chest. I haven't left the Midwest since December of 2005. Wait, wait. Tennessee isn't the midwest. I haven't left the Midwest + Tennesee since December of 05. And when I did, it was to Northern California. Beautiful place. And full of jerks who are too busy being cool to enjoy any of it with me. I went to Red Bluff. I had to escape Indiana, the Midwest, my life. I ended up staying with someone as unimpressed by things that fascinate me as everyone back home. Me "Let's go to the Sacramento river. It's three blocks from here. It's been raining for eight days, it was a big damn river to begin with, and I like water. And pictures." B-- "It's just dirty brown water, in mass quantity. Let's go to the mall. Besides, it's still raining." Me "It's raining and sixty five degrees in December. The grass is green. There's lavender growing everywhere. This is a new thing for me. You like Modest Mouse so much, right now Indiana looks like the frigging moon and Antarctica. I went to the mall, now I'm broke. I'm going for a walk, jerkfaces." And I did. And I have gorgeous pictures. I looked at them a lot in the past week (being all internetless) and it still amazes me how green and blue and bright everything was. I thought I was just giddy and high. I didn't get to go to Bonnaroo this year, either. Anyone know where an unguarded pile of cash is?