The conversation in her office, long after everyone else had gone home, was completely unexpected. One part “I’ve always felt different”, two parts “I just want to disappear”, three parts “I’m sick of these United States” equals being miserable even at the top of her profession. Maybe she’s crazy. Maybe I’m crazy too. Maybe not.

Not that I’m at the top of my profession – I certainly have my job to provide some mental stimulation but mostly it is to provide money for entertainment and survival and the occasional road trip. But I’m certainly caught in the middle of my own rat race. There’s so much I want to learn and I have so little motivation. I’m caught in this never-earlier-than-7:30 to never-earlier-than-5:30 life, and I feel like I barely have time to cook dinner and read and clean and sleep before it’s time to go at it all over again.

I’ve always been like this – tired and melancholy and doing things because I have to, not because I want to. I have to get out of this funk somehow. I just get so tired of being here in this town, where I feel am so fundamentally different than those around me.

If I could take a picture of the smell of freshly ground coffee, I would.

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1. i know it won’t be the same tomorrow