May 13th, 1994
I don’t want to be here. In fact, with each passing day I wonder what it is exactly that ‘here’ is meant to be. It feels more like fiction, life, I mean. But there’s something that keeps me going, keeps me searching. I sense it. I see it. I smell it. I taste it. Very quickly does it all fall away like grains of sand. Maybe I’m being foolish for trying, but I keep trying to go deeper. I want to capture something that may never be captured. I want to recall memories that I’ve never had, revisit places that I’ve never been, and return to someone I never left.
I wonder if it’s possible to travel through time without a time machine. I wonder if something like that could be as natural as a black hole. If you believe in it or maybe if you try hard enough. I think if anybody can find out, it could be me. It’s silly, but I really believe that. I feel like I have to. I’m in a strange place, but it’s the most beautiful feeling I’ve ever felt. There’s a danger in it, I know that much. I don’t know if I’ll ever come back if I end up going. I mean, why should I? I don’t have much of anything, but I have even less desire to acquire it. Not here. Not now.
Maybe everybody has a calling, or maybe only a few people do. I don’t know about things like that. Maybe nobody is meant for anything, and it’s all just nonsense. It could be that I’m nothing special but my chest, my heart, and my mind—hell, even my spirit—are telling me there’s something out there, and I’m inclined to go after it. I don’t know where it is or when it is, but I know that I’m on the verge of finding out.
Maybe there are people waiting for me on the other side. It’s funny to think that there could be people who might never forget me. The concept isn’t strange in itself. It seems plausible. Plausible as if it already happened, even though it hasn’t. I never really imagined I’d be the center of anything, and I can’t say that I really wanted to be, but maybe I did wish for something like that deep down once upon a time.
Now I see a great big adventure waiting for me. Something with twists and turns, stuff that even my creative mind couldn’t conjure. But there’s a seductive simplicity there as well. It’s life, just as it should be. All things as they should be. Even me, someone who’s never been who they really were, I’m as I should be when I’m there. I flow just like the river that runs to the ocean. I want to embrace the flow of time that leads me back to where I belong. It’ll be spectacular, like turning on that one record that you know will remain in your life from the moment that it starts.
I’ll see the sights of a tropical paradise. I’ll see the cold bright lights of the city. I’ll see the earth-shattering power of nature and the fragile structures of man. And most of all, I’ll see her. Finally, I’ll see her.
I live in a town full of illusions. I’m trapped behind lungs that cannot breathe. I’m stuck in a sleep in which I cannot dream. I am a ghost, a relic. I’m a foreigner, an alien. I have not come to conquer or claim; I am lost. I wish to return home. I want to roam on the warm sands that tell me I’m where I belong and the ocean that fights against any idea of travel. I’ll stay where I ought to this time, I will.
I want to go home.
Leave a Reply