There's a bottle of booze in every hand and a youth that speaks to Death Cab for Cutie or the Clash. The mountains speak to you like a wall instead of an adventure to be had. You've seen those clouds for too long, and you're desperate for some light.
Seattle is a city and home is a state of mind you've never found. With the grit of a harbored juvenile you hold the sharpie as tightly as you remember holding your mother's hand and write out a crude sign on the side of the road that reads, "Take me anywhere."
***This is not a reflection of me at all, it's fiction. Just thought I would point out I still love it here just as much as I did when I visited last December.***