|payingattention (payingattention) wrote,|
@ 2008-11-13 23:11:00
|Current music:||laughing on the other side|
#15: Seeking San Francisco
So easy, maybe, to leave and never come back.
I would call the house phone while my mother and sister are out and leave a message telling them I'm going away and not to worry and that I'll call. I'll take all of my money out of my accounts and carry it with me in my car so no one can track me. I'll travel across the country and not answer my phone until I'm ready to. I'll settle in California for a spell, riding the wave of post-Prop 8 protests before I get bored and move on. While I'm there I'll live out of my car until I find some decent paying work doing something I enjoy, and then I'll start looking for a place to live. In the meanwhile I'll wash my hair in the sinks of chic hotel bathrooms, the ones that have couches in them and soft toilet paper. And I'll come back when I'm ready, if I'm ever ready.
After a little while I'll quit and move up across the border, probably after I've gotten enough money for a passport. I'll go across Canada and hang out in Toronto, freelancing for magazines I guess. I'll find a little apartment, maybe consider citizenship before I get bored again, maybe even homesick, and start to think about going back to school. That might be when I come home, or maybe I'll find a place to study in Canada. Part time, maybe, and I don't know what I would study or where. I'll make new friends, meet new lovers, reintroduce my soiled soul into the world. No one will know about my past--that I fucked up, that I left home with barely a word to anyone--and when I'm ready to face it, if I'm ever ready to face it, that's when I'll come home.
But I could never risk what I'll lose by running away, by changing anything, so I sit here all the time and watch myself turn into something else, watch myself popping pills that don't feel like they're working, watch myself turn and turn and turn and turn and twist and compromise and beg and lose my integrity. That's where I am, where friends feel like strangers, where sometimes the touch of my girlfriend's hand makes my skin crawl, where I lust after people I'm ashamed to lust after, people I can't even have, people I would never be interested in if there wasn't a glass wall between us. Those people.
I knew it would come back. Right now I'm not sure it ever left. Like me.