Anywhere but here.

It's times like these when I wish my address was still 321 8th St. NE, Washington, D.C. 20002. I wish I could still walk the National Mall to clear my head. I wish I could escape into the anonymity of a million different Starbucks wherever I looked.

Instead I'm here, longing for the future while I plug away at this week's projects. The work no longer has any meaning to me. I have no pride in it.

I'm not really dreaming of Washington. It was a fabulous season, but I'd have no life there now. No, I just miss the freedom. At least there, I was supposed to be unknown. Here, I'm supposed to be a part of this "community," but I can't help feeling nameless. I reluctantly accept one more forced hug in an effort to feel more normal. I have to wonder, though, does this person hugging me really care?

Taylor is nice when I play along with the "I'm fine" game, but it can be cold when I struggle with real issues. I guess I'm feeling this way because I've had a taste of something so much better. It's not about being cared for out of compulsion because I'm part of some "community," it's about being important to someone just because I'm Megan Elder.

I'm not sure if this post makes any sense. Oh well.