Sh-tuck.

Oh yeah, Sociologist. I totally mean it.

Was talking to ShortStuff who was thinking of relocating after this year and when asked where was she headed to next, cheerfully replied (on the Internet, mind you), “No idea. LOL.”

I’ve thought of this for a while now. The sudden idea that the possibility of getting out of here lay just beneath my fingertips. That I was able to again, as I’ve always liked to do somehow because I always make a happy mess of my life no matter where I am, move and try and see what’s happening on the other end of town. Or the country.

It seems that I’ve found (well, not really) the bit in my contract that mentions nothing about a duration. I don’t actually have to stay for two years. Even though for all this time, for last year and the beginnings of this one, I’ve been mentioning, “Oh yeah, I have to stay here for the next two years. TWO YEARS, MAN!” and then grumbling up and down and all around about it, there isn’t actually a basis to that statement.

And it used to be so easy before.

I had thought to myself, “I’ll just up and leave. I’ll do my bit of dancing here and then I’ll up and leave. I’ll gain a bit of experience in all the stupidly different fields of physio and then I’m out of there. I’m not wanting to stay any longer in this place than I have to.”

But that was last year.

It was when I voluntarily took days off work because as much as  I felt bad for overloading my colleagues with the extra work, I just needed that extra break as well. I would take “sick” days off work because I knew I could use them up and besides, some days, I felt sick just thinking about the fact that I had to go to work.

Sure, this can probably be counted as a really foolish thing to do. Call me an ingrate. Especially with the way things are right now, job-wise, the economy and so on, I’m thinking to myself that I’m lucky just to have a job. I don’t want to have to move and then scramble around like a headless chook trying to look for one.

I’ve not taken any days off work yet. I might start soon because I think I honestly need a bit of a break somewhere.

But with all this talk about work, its easy to just call it quits and run.

I’m a coward. Perhaps, that one fact hasn’t changed very much. Sure, I’ve lived in some rather harrowing situations but I think I made it through okay. I didn’t “triumph” above it all. Scraped through, more like. Cuts, bangs and bruises but damn me if I don’t decide that its not quite my time yet.

So why don’t I just leave?

Its you.

Dear deities, its you.

Nothing else was supposed to keep me here. I wanted to leave, clean and simple. No ties to break, no hearts to break (Lord knows I’ve broken enough in my time), no imprints of my ever belonging here. Like Jean-Baptiste Grenouie in Perfume, I wanted to just literally disappear.

But you. You give me a reason to be here. You give me a reason to stay just one more day.

Even dancing doesn’t quite cut it. Sure, there’s dance but that’s all. I could pack my bags and I can, will, and always dance somewhere else and all I need is my dance shoes, a wooden floor and music and I’m all good but you-

Sigh.

Work calls.

Toodles.