With wind cold enough to freeze my cheeks, picking my hair up off the back of my neck and whipping it around to the front of my face and back again as I twist and turn through the dim evening, existing in even dimmer spirits.  No more tears on pillowcases, no more nights spent wasted, no more wishes at 11:11 because I'm out of here, away from you and from everything I've built here.  I'll just pick up and leave, like I've wanted to for so long; all I needed was this little extra nudge.  I'll go wherever I want, I'll cross oceans and play in rivers and dance without shoes on in countries with people who don't speak English.  I'll learn to play the trumpet and every morning I'll blow notes out my bedroom window so that somebody else can catch them and keep a little piece of me that way.  I'll make friends in coffee shops and marry a stranger who writes books and dropped out of college two days before graduation.  I'll never wear socks again.  No cold winds, no rain, no being let down by the people I'm surrounded by, no hating what I'm doing, no being down on myself for decisions in the past and indecision about the future, no disappointment, no heart break, no starless skies, no hurt, no paper cuts, no homework, no you, no you, no you.