Verbal warfare through radical ideals

Not All Who Wander Are Lost

Between sunup and sundown, my mind is usually a little too distracted to pick apart the things that truly bother me after dusk. The thoughts that move between logic and madness are few and far between, but they have their moments where they merge and I begin to form unreasonable ideas for myself.

I’ve come to assume that one of my friends had the right idea. When he turned 18, the world opened up before him and he made sure everyone else knew it. He took this time to challenge every thought his father had about his future. His mother, who was hardly there to begin with decided she was going to “become a part of his life” at this moment. He decided to tell her that there was no way he would come to know her now, after she wasted his entire childhood not watching over him. His brother, who he loved seemed to be the only person he came to understand as “family”, and let him know quietly beforehand of his plans. He then waited until one night before he left, and sprung the idea on me at a fast food restaurant while my girlfriend and I were hanging out with him and his wife. While sitting in the backseat of my car; the sudden inclination to spring this news on me caused me little reaction but pain, as he was one of my last actual friends to go out the door. Not to mention he did it with such relative ease, that I question whether or not he ever came to see me as the brother I viewed him as. He informed me that, “Tomorrow I’m leaving to head up north with my wife. We’re moving up there, so she can go to school and I will start school there this fall. It’s going to be awesome man. Just thought I’d let you know”.

“Just thought I’d let you know”. That quote has stuck in my head since 2007. The idea that “no matter what ties we had or with anyone else for that matter, we’re going to pack up and leave this festering shit-hole of a city. There’s nothing so sacred that I must stay, and there’s nothing left that makes me even remotely question whether or not I should leave”.

It confused me for the longest amount of time, but I think I now understand why it was that he had to escape this place, and so quickly. There’s just a sense of belonging one must have with any place or setting you choose to live in. There’s an unmistakable bond between you, and a place you choose to reside. You can’t just create it. It has to be a certain level of comfort that you start with, followed by the satisfaction that where you’re living at has not only people you care about, but a direct connection to you. I assume my friend found that, and when he did Texas no longer mattered anymore. From what I know of his childhood, he had little to cherish or hold onto in this state anymore, and what he found solace in came from the north in the form of a girl and her family. From the start, he was taken in by them as their own son. He was given priority during the holidays, and they took care to include him in much of what they considered to be their own traditions because they saw that he belonged there.

I wish I had this (I’m not trying to appear ungrateful, I have been fortunate). I’ve lived in Texas all my life. This state has been where I had my first of everything, and looking back I can’t say I would care to do it all over again in the same place. Even if this area was remotely friendly, I’ve always had since I could retain memories the feeling that things weren’t right. It’s an undertone of pseudo security; the tiny voice at the back of my mind saying that I’m not “one of this”. It’s a slight sense of isolation; the affinity that doesn’t exist between myself and a social clique. At the end of the day, I just want to go somewhere so that I don’t have to say that I’m where I usually am, or where I feel I have to be. The feeling of contamination I have late at night often compels me to step away from the computer, if even just for a minute to regain my composure. I feel as if my grip is slipping, and I must somehow try to sustain control of what it is exactly I’m doing. There’s something wrong about my situation. The misplaced child amongst the indifferent family( for the most part); the lack of social obligations, and therein the complete absence of intimate imperfection with another. The sheer subtraction of a willpower to maintain a financially stimulating norm that allows me to be thrown into the cycle of husks that allow their dreams to be repeatedly cast to the winds out of the fear that happiness isn’t quite good enough. Most people abandon this principle somewhere along the way. Most people surrender their dignity, hopes, and ambitions to the grind of normality long before they ever come to realize how close the wonders at their feet are.

I don’t want to be here. It’s not misguided, or an illusion. Every waking moment I spend here in this existence is another minute I spend in purgatory. I want out. This cage I find myself in is shaped like my city, and for too long it’s felt as if it’s surrounded by electrified fences. I’d love to say there are people I can go to with this issue. There are none. It’s been made clear by those around me, that I can’t be trusted or listened to. I apparently feel as if I’m always right, and because of this they gave up trying to see my viewpoint when it stopped coinciding with theirs. It is strange though, to be viewed as a welcome burden. I never asked for any of this. I didn’t choose any of this. Which is why I can’t help but feel I’m now walking around in Terminus, amidst the confused looks of those around me already dead inside from years of hardship and betrayal. I hope to sail out of here someday,  and land somewhere far away where I can be complete and happy; somewhere I know will help to bring a purpose to myself.  Perhaps I’ll even find some of the same star I was born of; those abandoned by comfort long ago and now long only to make sense of why everything around them became so unfamiliar.

This is a ghost town
We lie on the edges of failure’s fled
Lead on by shining faces, levelling extremes
What used to be, our humility is gone
Walk around, with skull and bones
We’re living just to die
I see more moments indict of decision
The windows are our lights
It is the only place I know, where death is most alive
It is where truth is turned to lie, where death is most alive



2 responses

  1. =((((

    March 1, 2011 at 1:26 PM

  2. Roxanne

    aww, Jake….

    March 2, 2011 at 9:39 PM

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