The break from the day to day worked wonders for me. It was a souvenir of what I am striving towards: that existence I always wanted yet never had the ambition to go for. This invisible fear used to linger over everything I did; I over analyzed every task, often thinking things were much more convoluted than they actually are or take much more time than they actually do. It took that steadfast desire to transcend what I was always eluding: actually following through. I would procrastinate to a fault & become horribly overwhelmed when it was absolutely unnecessary.
I witnessed new things & was reminded of what I left behind. Every moment of thinking I was above it all was immediate negated by a trip passed the house I grew up in. Maybe the actual visual reminder is what I need to rekindle that desire to leave it all. I parked & stared at the newly painted house that made me who I am. Whatever we learned in that house stuck with us to this day. Some of us try to hide it beneath a bombastic vocabulary while others pine for it, so much that we are “stuck” there: listening to the same music, keeping in touch with the same kids, & acting as if it was all wonderful when we know how bad it sometimes got.
I fell into cliché roles of what it meant to leave. Time flew by at mind-boggling speeds. I find myself counting backwards to that night I left. It’s a lot of subtracting in a life full of perpetual additions. I came to realize I don’t live here—it’s just a stop on the way back. All that poor grammar & excitable hand waving is indelible in me. I wouldn’t eradicate it if I could.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment