S'mores, anyone?

I'm here in Georgia as I write this, visiting for a wedding.

I realized something today.

Ever since I was a little girl, I have worked and worked so that I can be noticed and seen. I'm not strikingly beautiful, I'm not talented at sports (at all), I'm not a moving actress or inspired artist, but I am smart. I want to be seen.

I'm seen in London.

I'm not seen here. I'm still invisible here, very much in my box. In my place.

I don't want to come back.

I'm sick and tired of working and striving and trying to earn the approval of those who constantly move the bar higher and higher. I'm done. I'm taking all your bloody hurdles and piling them up and setting them on fire.

Then, I will roast marshmallows over them.