She said do it..

She said do it, take off, go now, who cares. No plan, no savings, no thought. Seat of your pants, off the cuff, drive blindly. How simple she puts it, how poetic it sounds. 20 again, not a care as to where I land. Couches, rest stops, parks - weed and beer and mushrooms. How poetic. How everlasting. If I could only be once again what I was when I did not exist. When I was a thought but never a memory, when I was a moment that only I lived and others just watched float by like leaves in the fall. When I was nothing more than an action, a twisted up heap of skin and bones, perplexed by my own thoughts, my own being. I couldn’t understand myself so how could anyone I encountered.

So go she says, take off, do it. No thought, no plan, no savings. Go and be and exist in this one moment that will forever live where it was and anything that happens after that will be the same as everything as before. Be 20, be 22, be 24 – be even with yourself and odd with the world. Take risks, fall in love, travel, chase dreams, do drugs, drink in the stars of the night, love everyone you meet. Be 20 again, be 22, be 24…

I know the 7th day is fun, it’s everything you dreamt it to be. The next 4 click like the first 7 but towards the 13th you feel full and start to question the road. By 16 in and many days alone your heart starts to yearn. You start to miss everything that was nothing but a moment you cared not for. There’s no buffer, no oblivion, just raw reality of you and your sanity or what you thought was sanity. By 22 your done, the breaking point. You’re in a campsite, alone, again. 50 sites and you’re the only one there. You scream and no one reply’s, not even your echo. It’s getting dark at 6 o’clock and the nights are longer here than in your tiny apartment where you watched the walls breath in your life and never give it back. You realize your lost. That everything that made sense no longer does. So you start to head back, back to where you know you can feel safe from yourself even though you felt running to yourself was the safest. The loneliness is the same, in a deserted campsite in Northwest Wyoming, in the confines of that apartment, deep in the thoughts that squeeze the life out of you.

She said go, take off, just leave. She laughs at herself, suggesting I take off with no plan. She knew me not when I was young and free, when I had no future and blind faith. I don’t know if it was actually blind faith, I think I didn’t have any faith, I knew nothing of that concept. I knew what tragedy was, I knew what survival was, what mattered and that was nothing mattered. I knew that I had to get the voices out of my head, that chatter, those questions I constantly asked and received no reprieve from. The lack of belief, untrusted god of mine slowly picking away at me. It was everything I felt sat on me like rocks, no like boulders, gasping under the weight of it. I never chose this for myself, I lack acceptance and no one thinks this is normal, this is ok, this is something I should pursue. I think god made a mistake with me, but I forgive him for it, not everyone is perfect.

I like her laugh, her smile. She has a meanness about her that pops on occasion, everyone does. She has a way with me I regret to say. I like the way she throws caution to the wind and claws at the hard-packed world around her, searching for a way to be free of it all. She is as I was and I’m drawn to her because of that. I’m drawn to everything around me that gives me a chance to feel, a chance to forget myself and the voices, the questions and manor of which I chose not to accept the day in day out, the chasing of money to buy my happiness one shirt at a time, one car at a time. The day in day out of brush strokes and idle chatter, of thumbing my way through the days, one flick at a time and watching someone else’s life at night. I got to watch her at night long ago, hands dancing about in a multitude of colors, the flick of a wrist, the sadness of her mundane.

She said go, take off, just leave with no plan…

Maybe I will, maybe one day I’ll wake and be gone, maybe one day I will be so dead inside that I’ll leave, maybe the campsites of Northwest Wyoming will not be so lonely this time, maybe I’ll stop the questions, start believing and letting go, maybe I’ll be a good robot once again, maybe I’ll fall in love again hahaha, maybe I’ll grow green toes and rabbit ears too! Maybe I’ll no longer be me, I’ll be what you think is happy, who you think I should be, I’ll be the person you need me to be, I’ll be your bank, your diary, your savior. I’ll let you bleed me dry cause I see I have nothing to give anyways. Maybe I’ll get some glasses and a better view and maybe, just maybe none of this matters anyways, maybe death is here and I just don’t see it, maybe there are no mistakes and maybe I am meant to be homeless wanderer.