13 days

til my freedom expands outside fuzzy grey cubicle walls of death. The corporate oppression that eats away at my soul and nips at my toes as I cringe them back into the shoes that will shortly walk me out of here is soon on its way to obliteration. A peaceful death for something so ferocious that it captures even the most innocent. I fear I've been somewhat converted to the need for $, the need for structure, and so breaking back into my original state of organized chaos will be a journey but definitely one without struggle. I just want to drive for days, live off little food, breathe in fresh air, see sights that extend beyond what I could see in an 8-5, and meet the most irresistibly intriguing souls alive. This will be the extent of my first ravings, seeing as how I'm not even on the road yet. 13 days. oh, sweet 13 days.