Cape Cod, Boston. Friday, August 29th, 2008.

I’ve been extremely lucky that feelings of instability and unhappiness are rare for me now, but I really dread waking up when it does. I haven’t even reached the new city and it would be wrong to say that I’m not excited about a new beginning, but it scares me that it has hit me so hard already.

I’ve tried to force some sort of smile, but it isn’t coming easy. Maybe I’ve just had too much time to think. I just need to suck up the fact that I’m leaving so much behind that I’ll never get back. I’m also afraid that I’m just running from good things, which I’m notorious for (I’ll never admit that again…) but I really hope that this is for the better.

I need some sort of support and the one pill that I have left isn’t going to provide it.

From Burbank to JFK.

I’m on my way.

I’ve said that it is tough leaving California behind – work, family and friends. So in order to ignore the fact, Mr. Leming and I set sail to the San Francisco Bay. We hit the pedal to the metal and somehow got forced into a time portal along the way. We’ll give the obtrusive vertical apartments of Haight a chance, but it is the land of the redwood trees that is going to give the drive its most due respect..

Quite the appealing teaser, no? Just wait for the proof.

It feels like we’re going one hundred miles an hour. Just fifteen minutes late and never too early to leave. We jump out of the car and run inside, just like last time. The musty scent and overheating climate brings sweat to my forehead. Once again, I remember what I hate so much. I look down shortly and then look back up. The lights turn off and the spotlight shines bright as if I am being accused of something terrible. I tell myself: I’m prepared for this. I look up and hint a smile, however, it felt more like a smirk to me. I’m telling a lie that has never felt so good. I think they can tell, because they are smiling right back. Suddenly, it doesn’t feel so good anymore. My hands start to shake and I turn my head toward the door. My mouth opens, but nothing will come out. I’m not ready for this just yet.

“Blowin’ In The Wind” by Bob Dylan

How many roads must a man walk down
Before you call him a man?
Yes, n how many seas must a white dove sail
Before she sleeps in the sand?
Yes, n how many times must the cannon balls fly
Before theyre forever banned?
The answer, my friend, is blowin in the wind,
The answer is blowin in the wind.

How many times must a man look up
Before he can see the sky?
Yes, n how many ears must one man have
Before he can hear people cry?
Yes, n how many deaths will it take till he knows
That too many people have died?
The answer, my friend, is blowin in the wind,
The answer is blowin in the wind.

How many years can a mountain exist
Before its washed to the sea?
Yes, n how many years can some people exist
Before theyre allowed to be free?
Yes, n how many times can a man turn his head,
Pretending he just doesnt see?
The answer, my friend, is blowin in the wind,
The answer is blowin in the wind.

until I move to Boston.