“Exit, stage left...”
To pack 2 bags, and abandon everything else. Would the phone be a map, a computer to find resources?
Could I start over, or would I breakdown within an hour?
Without a destination, or money, it seems dangerously foolish. Yet, my present course is not much wiser, as the bills pile up, unpaid.
“Drowning, I can’t propel my head to break the water - and my visual field is narrowing to a pinpoint of light.”
(I want to get out of this crisis - yet my mind doesn’t process well, in the maelstrom.)
Fudge. Restlessness, itching, wanderlust.
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