Yeah, I've been heavily considering just picking uip and leaving for someplace I've never been. I've got an itch, and it needs scratched, dammit. I'm fully prepared to let my life just fall apart, while I go live another one elsewhere. I'll only have marginally less than what I have right now on my return... If I return.

You should totally come. Dash it all. Chalk it up to youthful whimsy. Chalk it up to capitlizing on opportunities before you're tied down with real responsibilities (house payments, kids, marriage, etc). Chalk it up to spontaneity or whatever makes you feel free. Chalk it up to whatever lets you see the world with new eyes. What's it matter in the long run? You're only in your early to mid twenties once... This is primetime.

At least, that's a large part of my reasoning. I feel too young to be absorbed by the freakin rat race. I'm never going to make it through the glass ceiling anyways, so what the rush in getting there? I'm not jaded yet, dammit. I want to see the world naively while I can.

Adendum

And yet, I resist. I'm torn between identifying the resistance as reason or fear. Both are logical, both are probably accurate, but one of the two is more dominant.

Then there's the idealist in me, the part that screams: I want to do something that undeniably asserts my indivuiduality and vitality. Something that places me in a situation I've never been in so I can see myself for the first time again.

I've become too much a part of my surroundings, and unless I do something about it, I'll fade out. I'll wither and disappear. I'll become a gray and frail shadow of what I could be. When I'm old, I want to be entertained by my memories, not haunted by the vacccuum of routine. My fear is that I'll wake up one day and wonder why I even bothered.