Heads California, Tails California

As of tonight, I am the proud owner of one round trip ticket to the Bay Area. Richie and I will be taking a non-stop flight out of San Antonio to Oakland. In order to spend two weeks with my family and friends, I am making compromise after sacrifice. Neither airport destination is ideal; my preferences are, respectively, Del Rio and San Francisco. My nature dictates that I will fuss, unnecessarily, over every detail of my impending vacation. My fret level has gone from tolerably frantic to insane in the mere hours since I received confirmation. Although, to be honest, I must admit that I am giddy about the whole trip. My bipolar relationship with my home-state has caused an anxiously joyous air.
In an unconscious attempt to ignore my aforementioned mild neurosis, my mind turns to deeper concerns. I have not had any contact with Nathan for less than a week. An eternity's worth of days, but mere days ever still. I hate the part of me that desires to reach out to him. I hate the part of me that cares about whether or not he is affected by my lack of response. I am famously hasty about my communication with him. Has he noticed? I must talk about him to keep from talking to him. My heart sinks with every word that doesn't come from his lips. There is definitely more than a metaphorical correlation between my desire to depart from the aching that keeps my world from turning and my precipitant escape.