Stress Bomb

I wish I were in San Francisco. Things make sense there. If I could be there right now, you would probably find me here, at the Palace of Fine Arts reading a book and laying on a blanket. Instead, I'm sitting in Panera bread, trying to write a paper, watching the rainclouds crawl across the sky, and thinking too much. I wish I could just fly to San Francisco and escape from my thoughts... I mean, they would probably follow me there, but San Francisco is far enough away from my real life that I could ditch them in Texas, you know? Oh well. Maybe there comes a point that you have all these thoughts and stresses that just build up and then something amazing has to happen to get everything to just go away.

(I'm kind of hoping that this is what will happen.)