It's cloudy this morning and cool. The outside world from my window looks like a fairy tale will happen, but only because all fairy tales seem to happen in England or some other equally gray and misty place. The mists will part, and there will be a rose garden too wild, there will be a great bear, there will be a woman on the side of the road with a nose that is three ells long. Where are my seven-league boots? I must have left them somewhere and the walk to work today seems very long. I did not walk to work yesterday.
I love Tallahassee but I am tired of it and I believe it is tired of me. I wake up excited each morning to write, to feel the fall coming, and then I realize that I have nothing to say, and that the fall is the same as it always is and after that comes winter. It will be cold. I will wear a coat. I will walk the same streets I always walk. I will see people I know everywhere I go. I feel restless.
I know that it is not Tallahassee that is the problem, and that to live a good life one must do good things. I know that, I know that, and people will say do things differently and people will say try new things and all of that I know... and I know that really, people around here do not think of me very often. It is my own anxiety that I feel so exposed, and that everything I do is watched and judged. It's hard to feel free in one's hometown.
I suppose it's that I'm really not sure. That I want to change and I want a change, but I haven't decided what that will be yet. People ask me how I am and what I've been doing, and they are just being polite, but I am tired of being polite and I am tired of what I am doing and I really don't feel like talking about it.
Do you ever feel this way? Like nothing feels right somehow and everything you do is the same?
