There is a constant urge settled in my chest to leave.
I get off on stupid five minute car rides to the nearest convenience store.
Holding a one way ticket in my hand on a worn train
sends a rush through my heart.
When I walk to the park and swing, back and forth until I loose count,

That is what I live for.

I hope to go on camping trips with people I can share existential crises with while we look at the sky we float in at night.
I want to go to foreign countries and try a bit of every food, even ones I probably won't like.
I'm anxious for the day that I can start driving and keep on going until my gas tank is low and I stop at a ****** diner and talk to a stranger and eat bad pancakes.

And yet here I am, participating in an ongoing robotic system,
Going to school for 7 hours a day,
Going to rehearsal,
Doing homework,
Coming home and eating dinner, hoping my brother doesn't have work that day.

But,
I still have a crying need to breathe, and live, and move.

And I hope that one day,

I will.