Florida is a sunburn, and I’m not just talking about the sun. Well, in part I am, but that is not the point. The atmosphere, the people here, the weather, the monotony, and the scenery. After fifteen years of living here, all of these things have worn away at me like a lifetime of sun damage that leads to skin cancer.

I would like to live somewhere that I can work outside without waking up every morning still exhausted, sore, and sunburned.

I would like to live somewhere that I can be rich, but it wouldn’t matter how rich, because the people I meet will not assess my value based on how flashy I can be.

I would like to live somewhere that the seasons change.

I would like to live somewhere that being white is not something to laugh at.

I would like to live somewhere that I can walk from my front door to my car without working up a sweat and choking on humidity.

I would like to live somewhere that is not a giant vacation spot but is, rather, a place to live.

The sun burns brightly everywhere else, too. But why does it hurt so much more here? I am drained, and I’ve had enough. I have a sunburn in too many ways.