Fly-fly away, my pretty bird.

I wish I could just go. I want to go as far away as possible, and never look back. I wish I could run away from my illness, from my job and from my life and escape to the English Country Side. I could fall in love with a quaint little Hamlet and live in a flat just outside the city. I could ride a bike to the library that I could be working at. Go jogging past my neighbors’ homes in the mornings.

Or what if I ended up in Paris? I could rent a gorgeous Parisian studio just above a cafe. Maybe I could get a little puppy or something to keep me company as I wander through an ancient city. I could get a job as a singer somewhere, maybe at a jazz club or something. I wish. Oh my gosh, how I wish.

As I lay here sick once again, with my body aching too much to get out of bed, my mind races to so many beautiful places, it almost makes me forget about today. Please, God. Please. I need to get out of here. I just don’t know how.

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