Is it the city, or is it me?
I wish that I felt about St. Louis the way I feel about Savannah. I wish I thought it was lush and beautiful and full of adventures waiting to happen and discoveries of amazing things waiting around every corner. I don’t know why I don’t see the beauty of this place, and why it feels so threatening and jagged and broken, when I am sure it is full of wonderful places and people. Would I see it that way if I didn’t live here? If I lived somewhere else, would it keep feeling full of possibility and promise indefinitely, or would the horror and hostility of home creep into that place as well?
I wonder why when I am here I mostly want to take anti-anxiety medication and lay in bed weeping, while when I am not here the world seems so much more workable.
I haven’t turned on the TV since I’ve been home, or read any news, or caught up on any blogs, or done any shopping, or anything else really. I’ve mostly sat quietly and wished very much that I was somewhere else, doing something else.
I am very reluctant for my life to start up again.
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