Last week was difficult. This week hasn't been as intense, thus far, and I'm grateful for that. I have this whim, though, that maybe I should run away from home, so to speak. Maybe I should try something new, pretend as though something catastrophic has happened that I should run from. That way, I could maybe start over from scratch, rebuild, meet some new people and have some new experiences.
I don't think I've ever really done that. Every departure I've made has had some sense of familiar to it, you know.
When I moved to Augusta, I would venture home to Atlanta every weekend to commune with my friends and see art movies.
My senior year at UGA, I stopped going out most weekends and instead started coming home to hang out with my friend Vic. It was like I was no longer interested in what Athens had to offer me, as though I were just outgrowing the town.
All of my changes-of-location have been gradual, never abrupt.
I don't know what I'd be like in a new setting. I don't even know what happened to make this one feel sorta tired. But I want something new.
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