everything's moving and so am i.

mildly poetic words i wrote in a 10th grade melodramatic acid-induced haze. at the time, my parents had just informed me i was moving to russia with them, and was covinced that being catapulted across the world was, in fact, the end of the world.

little did my sweet sixteen year old self know that this was the beginning of a life-long love affair with leaving.

unlike my teenage self, i have no one to push me onto that plane. i have to do it myself. not back to the onion domed magic metropolis of moscow, of course, but somewhere equally fantastic in its unpredictability.

sometimes i feel like i'm going to look down and notice that my feet are moving and the rest of me isn't, like in some bad cartoon. there i'll be, walking on mid-air, near a cliff, and when i realize, i'll look directly into the camera, panic, and sink to the ground. but in cartoons they pick themselves up again pretty effing easily. will i be so lucky?

frankly, i could care less.

yes, i want to panic, to sink, to get covered in the dust-up of new places, faces and stasis.

these days, it's more "everyone's moving - so why can't i?"