It's not at the bottom, it's not at the top

Today I decided that the time has come. I'd like to play with the emphasis on this sentence for a moment. Join me will you?

THE time has come.
The TIME has come.
The time HAS come.
The time has COME.

Before explaining, I would first like to point out a few small things. Sardines are better out of the can. Sorry Portugal, I prefer when you can them and ship them to me. The locals can have the fresh ones. I can survive on cheese plates forever. Yesterday it was bread with brie and apricot jam. Today it is bread with the leftover brie and sun-dried tomatoes, capers and the aforementioned sardines. Some red wine to wash it down with and presto! dinner, or breakfast, or whatever.

Ok, back to topic A. The time has come to leave. I can go now. I was free to go a few months ago, but I was like a well trained animal who doesn't realize that the cage door is open. I was patiently waiting for the day when everything had come together, when I had reached a point of closure sufficient enough to counteract my "do not run away" edict. It only took 11 years, six boyfriends, four therapists, two cities, one confession and the arms of a sweet lovin' man to open the door. Nothing can stop me from going through it. I don't have to stay. I can go.

Until then, I am not really anywhere. This is a bit like limbo, hopefully enough people will pray me out of here. May my purchase button pushing finger be true when I book the plane ticket. It's better when you are moving.