I hate small towns.
It seems that no matter how many times I flee, I always end up back here.
Like the jaws of a pitbull, gets me by the throat. Sharp edges sinking into flesh-ripping and tearing. Bleeding me dry. Choking the life from me.
I am stagnant, and my soul is wanting.
I can see the greener pasture of the city. It beckons to me. For with the noise and bustle, there is peace. Within the chaos, there is balance. Confusion walks hand in hand with harmony.
