Going.

I'm going to paint my fingernails green and wear sunglasses in the library. I'm going to be an enigma. I'm going to sell my ipod on ebay and buy a record player instead. I'm going to use a lot of "oohs" and "ahhs" and "dah-lings". I'm going to New York to visit a friend, and when I say "friend", I mean J.D. Salinger's apartment. I'm going to try a liquid fast for three weeks. I'm going to join a bellydancing class next Monday. I'm going to tell the person I'm in love with that I'm not in love with them, check the weather forecast, then chase them down in the pouring rain and admit the truth. I'm going to hope they have a sense of humor about the whole thing. I'm going to stop checking voicemails. I'm going to stop leaving them too. I'm going to stoping exuding the vibe of emotional instability. I'm going to cut my bangs and hide behind my human hair curtain. I'm going to sing loudly with my ragged, shrill voice. I'm going to wear hotpants to my wedding reception. I'm going to see a relationship therapist -maybe she'll know why I'm single. Maybe she'll know that it's because I want to be. I'm going to start a stamp collection. I'm going to start collecting vintage watches, too. I'm going to stop burning bridges before I build them. I'm going to stop committing to people, because no one commits to me. I'm going to sit up straight and pay attention. I'm going to see something I haven't yet. I'm going to turn on my heels a la Holly Golightly, and leave everyone in the wind.


For good.