I've finally logged into ElfTown for the first time in LONG time.

...Just felt like sharing.

I should probably do some homework right about now.

It's 2:00am. I feel like writing.

I'm thinking of changing my major again; revamping my whole life. From interiordesigntoliberalrtstoanthropolgy to English. Why not--the end is near anyway.

I'm tired of winter. Of winters. One after another, year after year.

I'm tired of shitty friends. I'm tired of people saying one thing and thinking another.

I'm tired of going through the motions required to fulfill an American Dream I don't have. I don't want the nuclear family, the tailored spouse, the 2.3 children, the quintessential pet and the middle-class split-level suburban mansion with the manicured lawn and the flawless rose garden.
I don't want the mortgage, the timeshare, the car payments, the family-plan-cell-phone-deal. I don't want the 9 to 5, the pinstripes, the water cooler small talk, the company picnics, or the sweet benefits package.
I don't want the nicely decorated home full of serial number factory furniture and the matching dishes I brought home from vacation that one year, remember honey? We had so much fun that week and oh how I wish we could just live there.

Why not?
Why not dread your hair and pierce your nose?
Why not start a jazz band and leave all your friends behind? They never call you anyway and they wish you were different. "I dunno--just... don't think so much, you know? You don't always have to have something to say."
"Don't think."
Oh, ok.
And then I'll go to the bar, drink lots of cheap beer, get hit on by awkward twenty-somethings in the same boat I am, wish I were either dead or a whole lot drunker, and drive myself home. I just won't think. Check. Done. What's next?

I don't want to feed the cycle
that fuels the machine
that's turning the crank
that feeds the rat
that's running the wheel
that triggers the trip
that opens the door
that's containing the monster
asleep on the floor.
I don't want the American Dream.
And everyone knows
It's falling apart at the seams.

Why not leave it all behind with the clothes on your back and the cash in your pocket? Why not carry what's left of that dream in a little antique silver locket? Why not choose your future, choose life and rock it? Why not put all your crap in a box, tape it shut, hide it behind that door and lock it?

Why not run away into the mexican sunset
with a notebook, a pen, and a pack of cheap cigarettes?
Why not drop all your pretenses and tell the world
of your deepest dark buried and most sacred secrets?
Why not forgive your past for all the bygones and downlets.

I'm finishing school in two years flat or my name isn't Leah Marie. I'm gonna win the world over and catch a tan writing my novel by the sea. I'm not going nowhere fast, I'm going everywhere slow and I'm setting myself free. I'm gonna live the good simple life or my name isn't Leah Marie.