I’ve been in Pittsburgh for fourteen months.
And everything in me wants to leave.
The last time I stayed in one place that long, I was in my twenties and broke. And honestly, I’m not sure that even slowed me down then. I remember fifty bucks, a good friend, and a last-minute drive to Chicago like it was nothing. Movement has always been my default.
Which is why what I want right now — badly — is to get out of town.
So of course, life has asked me to stay still.
That tension doesn’t come naturally to me. But it’s familiar. These last several months have carried the texture I know well: commitment layered on top of longing. Work while it’s there. Say yes to the gig. Do the job. Finish the show. Get out of town. Rinse and repeat. For years, that’s been the rhythm: work, make money, travel, make art.
This is the tension I know best—being committed to the life I’ve built, and pulled by the life that’s still calling me.
Lately, though, the pattern has shifted.
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