I'm back, but it doesn't feel like home. In fact the moment I realized I was departing the chunks started rising in my throat and the tiny shrimps and little bit of champagne from the night before stirred in my stomach as if it were a modern day fantasia.
I'm sick at the thought of being here four more months but also have a lot riding on my success and failure. Both sides of the argument sound profound, but only one will be carried out. Why is it all of the sudden I feel aggravated by the world and less optimistic when it comes to my future plans.
I ran away from the perfect valued life and now it's haunting me like that dancing baby from Allie Mcbeal.
One day it will all fuse together and make sense, until that time I can only be thankful for my health, my youth, and my love.
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