Like some passing afternoon...

2.5 weeks and counting.
I've never anticipated an escape as much in my life. I'll probably make a scene. Run screaming, with hopes of never looking back, but I know I'll quietly contemplate. Cry on the shoulders of these new friends who have made me reassess the brokeassedness of this shitty shitty town. I decided I'll bring only essentials, and things to make me pretty: clothes, febreeze, shower essentials. If I arrive without photos, my endless Disney trinkets, memories of things I'd much rather forget, than maybe, just maybe (and this is a crazy notion in its own) I can create a new Hula. That's what Disney does for you- it steals your identity, and for a brief period (you see, I have only the summer to forfeit to fortune 500) I'll be happy (although it's a mandate) and I'll be submerged in surreal bliss and fortitude. Hooray for me! I love artificial happiness. I love the scent and structure and taste of all things I once considered real.
But I really am going.
I really am receiving this second chance...