The -real- reason to run away.

I think I need to run away and find the part of me that makes up stories again. Just leave, leave this whole town, house, state, region, life, find some place that’s going to be new and fresh and what I’m looking for. I want to be a storyteller again. Where did my soul go? The sky is grey, featureless, unshining, unshadowed, unsmiling like a blank slate, but I’ve had enough, I’m ready to soar, I’m ready to leave contrails of fire and a comet’s trail and make you think so hard your head explodes. Hell yes.

My best friend gave me an endless scene for Christmas/New Year’s/whatever we’re calling it, she’s Jewish and I’m Christian and our other friend is Agnostic/indescribable, so I’m really unsure, but it hardly matters. I’m ready to dive into another world, make things stop making sense, start letting the world run away with me again. We’ll see.

I’ve been having dreams, by the way. Disturbing dreams. The night before last, I dreamed that my dad gave me a plate of eggs, and I got halfway through and he pointed out that I’d also consumed half a slice of ham, and I was horrified partly because that’s meat, I ate it, why did you give me a plate with meat on it, and partly because I hadn’t even noticed, or maybe my subconscious had and had kept eating anyway, and now I’m freaked out because I don’t know what my subconscious is trying to say, but I woke up with a really gross feeling, like… unclean, and now I want to go vegan more than ever. Last night I dreamed my dad and I had a huge fight about David – this came on the heels of a strange and beautiful dream in which I took this friend to prom, despite her not being bi or anything, and the fact that I not only am straight, but also have never had a crush on her. I drove a Bentley. I don’t know what that means. I also was about as masculine as I’ve ever been, and I don’t know what that means either.