all the things i cannot say.

i’m going to sit on the cliffside along the pacific ocean and let the wind rip through my hair.  i’m going to listen to the sea lions bark orders at each other.  i’m going to eat pasta in washington square.  i’m going to watch mimes and steel drum players and human statues and break dancers.  i’m going to buy an artsy trinket from a street vendor.  i’m going to see flowers in bloom because that actually happens in san francisco in late february.  i’m going to be away and smile and be free and happy and unrestricted and warmer.  and i cannot motherfucking wait.