Dreaming of a crowded cafe in Paris …

… or any other vacation spot. I’m not sure where my ideal destination spot would be (although sipping coffee and writing in a notebook on the Riviera sounds damn near perfect), as I have limited vacationing experience, but I want to go on holiday somewhere, anywhere just to get my heart healed and my head out of my ass. I’m tired of the sameness, the perfect ennui that is coursing through my veins where healthy blood once flowed.

It’s time for an emotional dialysis — flushing out the toxins and those people and things that are polluting my being. I’m tired of trying to grasp at slippery, flimsy life preservers — I am going to build my own damn yacht, and anything/anyone that doesn’t belong at my private party is going to be thrown overboard.

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