I am leaving home and becoming an urbanite. I've tried and tried to fit into your world of loose fitting pants and unscarved necks, but I just don't belong. I am who I am and I'm entering a very real time for me.
Don't bother looking for the ten-speed in the garage. All I left behind are the nine gears I no longer need. It's not about convenience. You just wouldn't understand.
I can no longer resist the call of vehemently politically supporting social programs that I could never hope to financially support. What little money I do make from free-lance design must go to satisfy my tremendous lust for specialty coffee beverages, new apple products, tight fitting t-shirt designed to look "old," and going to "shows."
Goodbye, Mother. By the time you read this, I'll probably be in yoga class.