in things i wrote months ago and can't remember if i ever posted, so please forgive me if i already did... this:
when i moved to chicago, it was never with the intention to stay.
it's funny how the first half of your life is parceled off in predetermined chunks. five years of pre-school, six years of elementary school, three years of middle school and four years of high school. then, likely, four years of college.
that's where, especially if you were a humanities major, things become quite unclear.
is that what adulthood is? the end of a time of life that comes pre-organized?
when donovan was dumping me after that rogue wave concert and i saw the word CHICAGO spelled out in pink neon as though it were there in real life plain as day, i knew chicago was where i was supposed to be.
and, yet, it has often been incredibly surprising to find myself here. i remember a moment (HERE) about two years in, where it dawned on me that this was real life. that there wasn't an expiration date. there was no escape. i was stuck here.
and, as much as i love chicago, that’s how being in chicago felt. as much as i love chicago, i've spent much of my time here trying to leave it. because chicago is home and, as such, it feels too safe.
i can't write the things i want to write here.
i've known that for awhile, but knowing that hasn’t made the reality of it any easier.