I have spent most of my life working in one way or another. A million extracurricular activities, varsity sports, summer study programs, internships, three jobs & two programs in college… I haven’t taken a real break – one that lasted longer than a week – since I was four years old (which is when I started dance school and competing in beauty pageants). I have always had something else on my mind, something that needs to be done. Sleep has never come easy. Anxiety disorder was a bit of a give in by the time I was diagnosed bipolar in high school. I have struggled with human relationships on every level because in my mind the work has always been far more important. How can people admire you, respect you, love you – if you haven’t done anything worthy of that love? If you haven’t put the work ahead of your own well-being, how can you hope to achieve anything that’s truly good?

Some people find faith and fulfillment through art, religion, family. I have always found it through the work.

Until now.

I’m leaving.

I’ve never pictured myself outside of D.C. Outside of the politics that I love so much. I never thought I wouldn’t have the Front Page to drown my sorrows, the Mall to sooth my aching heart in times of need, or a cab to bring me home when the night has gotten a little too late. I have been here my entire adult life and I don’t know where to begin saying goodbye.

I must though. The beach calls my name, and I’m moving in less than a week. I’m going to continue writing, though you’ll notice changes about the place – beach bum life will probably not come easy to me, and we’ll see how long it takes for me to shake D.C. off my boots, but I hope you’ll join me as I do it. After all, it’s still Limbo out there in the wide world, isn’t it?