The East Coast is calling me, I’m going fucking stir crazy.
A need to feel a fresh breeze on my face.
Salty air and moss crawling across the forest floor.
Concrete jungles painted in different spectrum of color, each one more outlandish than the next.
Closer to folklore and a history that interests me more than any college party will.
I need to get out of here. Soon. I’ll dance across the country with bare feet and wild hair, a pen in one hand and a paint brush in the other.
The East Coast is calling me.
I’m reorganizing my room and oh God this is gonna be great.