it’s not self flagellation…

How ass backwards is it that moving (something that’s been said to be the most stressful thing in someone’s life, up there with death and divorce) brought me such peace and happiness.

I was itching to get back here after x’mas break. How did I know that one week would have been enough. More than enough. How quickly I tire of hearing “so how’s school?” when I left on the premise that I would most certainly NOT be in school until Fall ‘07. How badly I wanted to kick someone in the face when they spoke about “when” I moved back to Florida. I’m never moving back to Florida. Save sudden tragic death or cataclysmic disaster, nothing will get me to move back. And if I eat these words and move back, it will be on my terms… on my turf. Solo. No roommates, no family. SOLITUDE. Me, myself, and maybe Billie Holiday on Sundays. Alone to drown in my vices… indulge in my dirty noonday tanning habit, sweet wine and cheap cheese, and knitting.

And sadness.

Me, alone with only my sadness and fear for company. Because I want to take them by the shoulders and give them a good shake — yell at them for following me all the time… ask them how, no matter how fast I run, they keep up with me and jab my sides… demand to know why, after being surrounded by and intimate with so many people, they don’t leave me alone. Don’t worry… they haven’t driven me insane. They’ve only driven me to desire lonliness.

And Solitude.

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Personal Goal for 2006: Figure out what I want to do with the rest of my life and draft up a thousand step plan to get there. Then, take the first step. ['course, this requires knowing what I want... lawd]. And move again.

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