A year has come and gone since I left Florida in search of a something to stimulate the rut my life had become. When I began this year-long journey I had no expectations of where I would go or even if I would be gone for a year. I figured at some point I would get tired of traveling and come home. Instead now I have no home, and probably never will. According to all official documents I live at a UPS store in St. Petersburg, Florida, but when somebody asks me where I live, I honestly don't have an answer.
I thought my year less bored would be wrought with travel, a month each in various states, hiking all the mountains I could. But I've only been to three (not counting the ones I traveled through of course), most of the year spent in New Hampshire where I attempted re-assimilation into real life first by opening a bakery and then by moving in with my boyfriend. Twice. Both were failures because of other contributing factors, but at the end of the day it comes down to a life-long fear of obligation and commitment that I now realize it's possible to live without.
So I will.
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