Down the Rabbit Hole

Re-Entry

Sometimes I dream about running away with all the fever of sex addict living out their most erotic fantasy.
True story.

I think that because I would never actually do it, my escape plan has all the vivid color and cinematic prowess of an epic motion picture. Over the years, I’ve honed the fantasy so by now, it is richly woven tale of reinvention set against the backdrop of the great, wide expanse of the American west.

I dream about trading all the ivy league-soaked promises of the East coast to roam amongst the dusty ranches and shadows of great sequoia like a roving tumbleweed. I dream about trading in the confines of an air-conditioned office for big skies, open fields and distance mountain peaks. I dream about becoming a better, leaner version of myself, freed from all my lofty ambitions to live a life in appreciation of sunbaked earth and weathered cowboy boots. Mostly though, I dream of a life free from wanting, wanting to be more than my experiences, wanting to be more than just what most people expect, wanting to be more than I expect from myself.

Somedays the fantasy of living a life untethered, mentally trumps the one where I’m constantly feeling like the girl waving her arms and screaming into the wind just to be seen and heard.

I’ve been waving and screaming my entire life. It’s exhausting.