When I get into my car this morning, I’m going to run away.

At 6 months shy of 28, it should be called "moving out," but I’m not. I’m going to run away.

I’m going to dye my hair black and part my hair on the right side instead of the center. I will pick up some glasses and green contacts and move to Armenia where I will become a nomad with severe agoraphobia. Every day will be an internal battle between satiating my wanderlust and quelling my fear of leaving the house. “I am the most conflicted individual you will never meet,” I will whisper out my window, unable to keep it in, but fearful someone will hear.

I will live in the Province of Aragatsotn, in the village of Karin. After spending one day as Karin in Karin, I will legally change my name to Jane. It is simple and easy to pronounce. No one will ever say my name wrong again. No one will ever get me wrong again.

Or maybe when I sit in the car I’ll just go to work.