i feel alright, mama, i’m not joking

I can’t take this anymore.

You.

I can’t take you anymore.

So I’m leaving for Boston in a few hours, to drink my fill of Sam Adams and eat my fill of baked beans and to get as far away from you as I possibly can, Internet. They don’t get you in Boston, you know.

That’s what I heard, at least.

And if I’m lucky, I’ll meet a girl whose name starts with “t” and who likes to party. Can you even begin to imagine the jokes? What a time we’d have! What fun!