So, for about a year,

I commuted 30 miles west to an ad agency downtown. In general, it wasn’t too bad, but as the seasons changed and the mornings became increasingly dark, I struggled. It got to the point where whenever I was stopped in traffic, or for the few lights between my home and the freeway, I found my gaze traveling toward any trees or patches of grass, or even the sky. Whenever I saw a bird, I caught myself thinking, “How I wish we could change places.” And I could never decide if this was a sad thought or a good trade.

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