In 7 Days

You know what happens in seven days? A week happens in seven days. Did you know this? I didn’t.

And in a week I shall be shedding my responsibilities one by one, packing everything important that’s portable into a suitcase and I will set sail on a pea shell boat, on feather sails, on to my very own Boston where no one knows my name, on to a new town where I’ll see too much of the sunrise, on to another penknife-clutching heartstopping adventure, on to a place where they really don’t care much that this is one horrendously long sentence with too many unnecessary clauses.

In seven days I’ll be gone. I don’t know when I’ll be back. I hope when I do I’ll come back without missing parts.

After 7 years, I need a new start.

Has it always been this terrifying?

Şule

you don’t know me
you don’t wear my chains