I have a long backstory; you can check my history. We're trying to get past this.
This last Saturday, I drove past a Chevy dealership. For no reason at all, I stopped. An hour later, I had traded my old Camry for a 2018 Camaro ZL1. I always wanted a badass car; never owned one. My wife was happy for me. I love this car.
That's not the news, though.
This morning, I was in a meeting at work. The VP of financial ops was being his usual asshole self; he always gives my department an extra load of crap. I've sat through a thousand of these meetings. About 30 minutes in, I had an overwhelming urge to leave. I got up and walked out. I got in my car and left.
I started driving west. I've been gone for a few hours, and I'm a couple hundred miles out. I'm heading for California. I've always wanted to live there, but life didn't make that doable. I haven't left my wife; I don't know what I'm doing. I just know I love this car, and I'm going to California.
I hate my job; I'm not going back there. I don't know what I'll do when I get to California. Maybe send for my wife, maybe not. I don't know what I'm doing right now, but one thing I'm aware of is that I feel awesome. I haven't felt this good in a long time. Is this some type of nervous breakdown euphoria? I don't feel like I'm going crazy; on the contrary, I feel inexplicably coherent and lucid right now.
All I know is I'm going to San Diego: 2,275 miles to go. I've finished lunch and am heading back out. Thanks for letting me get this out. There is no one in my life I could discuss this with. I'm sorry if I've let anyone down. I try to be strong and will be; I just need to go.
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