anticipating nostalgia

Nostalgia for a place before leaving it. There must be a word for this feeling. Lately, however, I mostly desire to flee california as soon as possible.

As I was walking through the Presidio on a beautiful cloudless day with a view of the Golden Gate bridge, while busy nonprofit workers bustled around full of purpose, I got the feeling of not belonging here. As if I had expired sometime in the past few years, and a ghosty person that looks like me now floats around pretending to be real. I've already moved on, existing in a kind of waiting space. Sometimes I think people notice. It seems the purposeful nonprofit workers can tell that I am no longer purposeful.