I would love to take a trip. Somewhere new or somewhere old. Why don’t I do what I want to do? Time is passing with or without me. I’m being hard on myself here. It tends to be my default. I don’t have to be hard on myself, but there is some truth there. I spend more time inside than I want or need to. I spend more time at home- it makes me unappreciative of it. Too familiar, it breeds boredom and complacency. Mercedes, do something. For you. For free. Just get out there and let it touch you. How do you know who you are? Familiarity is like a bubble wrap, safe but. Romanticized futures lead to wasted presents. Presence. Where was I going with this? Where were we headed regardless?