Recently I have been wanting to run away. A highly mature emotion, I know, and one which speaks of an inability to handle problems; nevertheless, I am a hairsbreadth away from doing it. The more I think about it, the more I want to just hop on a plane and not tell anyone where I am going.
I thought Mexico would excise this bug that has crawled under my skin, unfortunately, it has not. I still have this awful itch to run. The only thing stopping me right now is M. I would hate to leave him behind. No one makes me laugh like he does, and I find that he is often the needle in my compass directing me home. If not for him, I would undoubtedly leave. As no job has yet found me, and my summer is virtually open, there is no better time for me to jump ship! A waitress job in Barbados sounds a lot more fun than one in Chicago, doesn't it?
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