Written.

I want so badly to be lost. To wake up in a place where no one knows my name, my past, my favorite color, or that the pink spots that happen to stain the necklines of many of my summer clothes are the only remaining trace of my messy obsession with extra juicy raspberries that took place in May of last year.

It would be nice to walk into a room of people and have no one call my name eagerly, so thankful that I had finally shown up, or have someone scoff in disgust and scorn the person who had the nerve to invite me. It would be nice to shock that same room of unrecognizable people into an awkward silence by voicing a bitingly sarcastic joke, while one person chuckled to himself in agreement.

It would be an extravagant pleasure to walk down a crowded street without the fear of bumping into someone I used to be friends with but had stopped calling, or the awkwardness of running across someone I used to date but had stopped seeing.

I would revel in the excitement of everything new and the flurry of starting my life all over, but most of all, in a big city with millions of people I would not recognize and not a single soul that I would know, maybe I would finally have an excuse for feeling so alone.