I love going on road trips, my feet on the dashboard, conversation flowing, overcast skies, seeing mountains and rivers running, it gives me the feeling of escaping my problems and home, the drive back home always leaves my heart heavy and makes me acutely aware of how trapped I feel.
The whole of the first week of this year my mum and I have been driving to different places like crazy, not anywhere far but it has been amazing. So amazing it made me cry in my bed this other day because it was so perfect.
If I had my way I would go and live in a woodland, I crave to breath a different kind of air and experience a new life, this life I am living feels like a worn out shoe, it just doesn’t fit me. I was born on a precipice of possibility in the sense that ever since birth I have always felt like I was on my way to something better but this is real life and I have been tethered to the precipice since, never moving but always on the verge of tipping off the edge.
I grow weary and I no longer have any idea why I do what I do, reasoned action is a thing of the past I’m simply existing while waiting for something, I don’t care what as long as it is the violent reinvention I so desperately crave.