I live in a small town.

Small town is stifling, suffocating, sickening.

Small town makes me want to be somewhere else.

Anywhere else.

Some days I want to go to New York.

Some days California.

Some days Boston and occasionally Seattle.

I want to live in a big city.

Big city has so many people that no one knows my name unless I tell them.

No one pretends to know me when in reality they only know of me;

And not even the me that I am now,

They know of a past me that no longer exists.

They know of the me that wanted nothing more than to please small town, to fit in with the other small towners.

But I don’t and I never will.

Because I was meant for more than small town.

And small town knows it.