I’m tired of living in Florida. Nothing new of course, I’ve been daydreaming of cool breezes rolling in through an open window on a summer day in some fictitious New England my mind has painted with great detail. In reality I know that north of the Mason-Dixon line people live in sweaters and shovel snow, of neither I particularly desire in to partake. But it is a feeling I cannot seem to shake; the feeling that there is somewhere else better than here which has, for all of my life, always been Florida. Frankly I’m tired of beaches and generally boring architecture (although I should point out that I have no formal knowledge of architecture, I just like nice brick buildings and multiple floors).

I want to live in a place that is ripe with history, with a story on every block. I’ve been imagining my perfect life in a cold weather place for so long and I want to make it a reality. Of course I am probably going to keep daydreaming and never moving up - or hell even forward. I’m always too afraid of taking chances. I don’t think I have ever taken a real risk in my entire life - lots of my actions have often time had the potential to be risky, but I never made the deliberate choice to take a risk. I’ve always taken the easy, clearly lit road with very few bumps - and if there was a rough patch I avoided it.

I’ve lied a lot, made a lot of selfish decisions, generally thought of myself first - how to save my ass when I was in a jam, certainly hurt a lot of people.

Somehow I’ve ended up in this place where I am liked by people around me and sometimes admired (which really always bothered me deep down, because people around me never actually know me - except the few who I didn’t treat like shit or push away too early in the relationship) but no matter what I was always really alone. I fake and have faked more interactions than a nice person should. I pretend a lot and make excuses for myself. I’m irresponsible, generally unreliable, and I tend to disappoint quite often - which is why I have lost just about all the people who have tried to be more than just acquaintances with me. No one wants to be friends with a cheat or a liar.

Speaking of which I do all too often and really always have. I remember back in middle school making up this elaborate story before a family vacation - I guess it was to garner the attention of the girls I wanted to be to be friends with. I told them I’d buy them all new outfits from the big city, which right well knew that I wouldn’t and couldn’t do. Then they were nice to me and treated me as less of a loser than I felt, they reaffirmed my identity with their approval. But of course when I got back to school after the vacation, I certainly didn’t have their big city clothes in hand so I just pretended I was invisible for a while and it worked - they ignored me and forgot I was there. I really didn’t give anyone the chance to be my friend and never really made a real effort. I pretended a lot and told people things I thought they would want to hear. I’ve done it all my life and for reasons I can’t even figure out. So maybe this itch to move is some subconscious desire to seek out something new, not something north.

My “I want to move somewhere else” post certainly has ventured into a much more real and serious area than I anticipated. I guess stream of consciousness treatment in a blog lends to things like this happening if I don’t make an outline for my storytelling mind. I will however take this as an indication that I have something to talk about and I think I will try for as long as I can sustain it, to break down and review some of my disappointments in myself. This will be more for me than anyone else, but if anyone follows along, I apologize in advance if I have hurt you in the process of becoming the sad person I am today.