Poetry's not my jam. Anywhoooo. I've taken a week long road trip across the US with two of my dearest friends in hopes that we would end up in Chicago alive and with all of my things (mainly just alive.) We survived!! I'm not sure how the trip back will look for that, but I mean, keep an eye on CNN for any breaking stories. Tomorrow, I leave St. Louis, Missouri, the last stop on this epic road trip (which I will definitely post more on a little bit later), and head to Chicago, Illinois...I won't be leaving that city. I will be there for weeks on end...because I will live there. THAT IS INSANE. I love being new in cities. There's something awesome about being that idiot that can't work the public transportation or thinks the most generic, lame coffee shop is awesome because it's in whatever new city you're in, but I also love when the city you're in becomes normal. When you stop finding that generic, lame coffee shop to be awesome and you can laugh at people who don't know how to jump on a moving bus, because that means you're home. My writing partner and friend, who for the sake of this story we'll call Tamara**, already lives there and she and I have already made these incredible plans and a list of all the awesome things we'll do...I'm just waiting for the city to be mine. I'm ready to be an Illinoisian and complain about the snow and how bad the Cubs are. I hope you're resting well tonight, Chicago, because after tomorrow, you'll never be the same and I hope I won't either.
**I didn't change her name, because that makes no sense. She's not in the witness protection program.
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