Word. It gets harder for me to return to this island and this solitary life every time I leave to go somewhere. It was really, really hard to come back this time.

When I am here, it's great. I have my friends and a busy life. I have work.

It's when I leave this island that the demons launch. I relax within hours of vacating this cement jungle and see that a life beyond it is doable. It's not insane, but the opposite.

I become someone else, someone at rest.

There's a reason the rest of the world is so different from America and especially, foreign to American cities. There's something to Europeans who vacation for weeks and months at a time. There's a reason that natives of warm caribbean islands rarely leave.

The secret, is in their smiles.

When I go somewhere tropical, I am able to recognize the insanity that is my city life. I see how hard my life is, when it could be uncomplicated.

Don't be surprised, when one day, you hear that I've just up and left. Forsaken the job and the lifestyle and the possessions, to be happy with nothing. Nothing at all.

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