my room is a constant visual reminder of how i run away. there are peruvian postcards plastering the walls. there are maps of cairo and cusco and thailand. there are ramadan lanterns from egypt on my desk, a peruvian rug on my wall, and an egyptian camel stands proudly next to my lanterns. egyptian fabric cut-outs are hammered into the wall above my bed. and on the opposite wall, there are arabic flashcards i bought in the 2.5 pound store on zamalek.

there is one picture in my room of my father holding me as a baby. funny, how when i look at that picture, even then, i run away. i run back in time. i'm always running. escaping. that's what i do.

my room makes me feel guilty. my room is cozy and worldly, but it is also a display of my selfishness, not for material, but for plane tickets.

i feel at my best when i'm running. it's only when i stop and look back that i begin to realize the errors of my ways, my "anywhere but here" mentality. because sometimes, here is where i need to be. here is where i should have been this past year. i should have known...