hometown glory

One last look.

“I hope you find what you’re looking for.”, she said. As I slowly walked away from her desk. Life is all about last looks, this one was no exception.

I imagined myself doing different things with my life. Going on different adventures, then what was happening before me. I never imagined coming back home. I never thought that failing was an option. As I always do, I picked myself up and started over. Starting over by going home until I come back to this fucking city.  I am going home to regroup then come back to this town to be somebody. Anybody then the person I was before. Not the broken person I was when I came here.

Big cities don’t take to kindly to lonely hearts. Broken people don’t always find what they are looking for. But I will be the exception. The exception to the rule.

I walked away from her office and watched the room glitter with the sunlight. The same golden color. The same sparkle from the afternoon sun. What I would give to be outside  but instead, I am saying goodbye to everything that was familiar.

Life doesn’t prepare you for goodbyes. Life doesn’t prepare you for last looks and the words that haunt you after. Instead, you move forward and hope for the best. Praying, wishing, hoping, that all of this will be a distant memory. Just another story to add in the book of life.

It’s been six years since I have been back. Six years and I still feel like like a visitor in my hometown. This doesn’t feel like home but neither did that big city. Which is why I felt the need to burn my bridges and watch them crumble behind me.

Yet, those words haunt me.

“I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

As I make another last look through the glistening rays of the sun behind me.

One day I will. Someday soon.

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Hometown Glory.

No matter where you go, you can always come home.

We are no longer who we say we are. We are slowly drifting further from who we were when we started. Growing up and accepting life’s responsibilities of being grown up. Different places, different faces, different times, changing us into who we are suppose to be. It doesn’t matter where we are going, but we end up further from where we started. “Don’t ever change”, you would once say. Now all I want to do is be someone else, some place else.

Running away is easy. Run to the hills where no one will find you. Run to the streets and to the oceans that will separate you from me. I’ve run to bigger cities with their ever eclipsing skyscrapers, to escape these thoughts. To escape my footsteps that stay cemented on the grounds, that have been repaved to be broken again. How big the city seems that makes me feel small, how small my hometown is that never let me grow. I can’t help but watch it all happen all over again. I am growing older but feeling the same. In the same places in different spaces. Your soul feels exposed when the light hits you just right. In a town where everyone knows your secrets and you can’t help but hide from the lies that always seem like truths. Its not where you’re going, it’s how far and fast you can leave this place. Away from familiar faces and away from the boring mundane familiarity of yesterday. If I stand still, I watch everything pass me by.

Miles from home you tend to still feel alone. You hang on to different experiences to make you different. To feel like someone else in some place else. All life is, is a bunch of experiences to make you grow up. Be different, be weird, be who you’re suppose to be. Inside you’re aware of how phony you feel. Even 300 miles from home, you still yearn to be home. Still seek comfort in the familiar that you’ve tried desperately to escape. I spent a lot of time running away from my hometown. Wishing I was somewhere else, any where but here. Even being 300 miles away, I am still wishing to be somewhere else. I am still wanting to be anywhere but here in this moment. Everyone once in a while, when the light hits just right my hometown feels like home to me.

Being home I don’t feel so alone. Even after a while people leave and go off to far off destinations. I am a plane ride away from my next adventure. Living in and out of a big fat suitcase and still I linger on. Home is just a concept to make you feel something you can’t explain. Home is another word for failure and all it’s hurtful things. Home is how I feel when ever I am here with you. For the first time all these love letters I have written to other cities seem misplaced. After all these years I search for things to remind me of you, and here I am again.

Home is not a concept in my mind. Home is my feet planted firmly on the ground. Across the cracked pavements of the streets I know by heart. Home is a house that sits empty on gravel street in my memory. Even after all these years. After all the places I’ve lived. All the places I made my home, in cities bigger than my hometown. It’s my hometown I come back to. It’s my hometown that makes being alone not feel lonely anymore. It’s in my hometown that I feel that I have something, when I lost everything in sight.

For the first time I am home, even when I have failed miserably inside. It doesn’t hurt me anymore.

 

 

 

Photograph.

I want to leave a piece of myself in every place that I go. In oceans, in woods, in big cities many people call home. Roam the earth and haunt the streets. Kiss a thousand strangers and leave my feet firmly planted on the ground. Beneath the streetlights that illuminate night skies. Where nothing feels as broken as you feel. Where everything feels like a completely new beginning and experience.  Leave pieces of myself in everyone that has left ghosts of their former selves with me.

Nostalgia, why do you continue to let me down? Letting me believe that photographs are what is left of our memories of the past. That something so simple is left time stamped in a photographic memory. The sooner the years pass, the sooner we leave our memories behind us. Deep rooted in the ghost towns of our minds, where words are never spoken but constantly replayed melodies form instead. I watch the cities that I love, continue to sky rocket and change with the times. Meanwhile, I watch the town I grew up in flourish then turn to dust. I watch the ghosts of my past fill the empty spaces with open arms and hollow expectations.

All these photographs I keep of people long forgotten in stories I can only tell myself. Of cities larger than my hometown. Of boys that played games with my heart that turned into men that always broke my heart. Photographs scattered and framed in a million places waiting for a retelling of a nostalgic fairy tale. Friendships that would last forever, until we grew up and become the opposite of what we were afraid of. A piece of me in every frame of the photographs that keep hidden in my memory. It’s the only place I don’t feel alone, it’s the only place I don’t feel broken.

Let me leave these pieces of me in everywhere I go.

Wouldn’t that be nice?

12/20/2010

8/11/2015 – Day Five.

Drained. Emotionally drunk. Punched drunk. My body hurts and no matter how many times I try to get up, I continue to fall back down. Depression hurts all over, changes your mood in a hundred different ways. The more I suppress the feeling, the more it intensifies. What started out a somewhat productive morning, wound up extremely unproductive. After the meltdowns of the past few weeks, I started having fears about everything. To the extent that the upcoming trips I had coming up I wanted to cancel. I have never been one to cancel any trip, but lately emotions take so much out of me. No matter how much I want to put up a positive front, I don’t want to keep lying to myself.

I wasn’t sure what could get my mood back at least somewhat back in order. I knew I couldn’t be like this forever. I could dig myself a deeper hole than I was feeling. All I ever do is pick myself up and try to put back the pieces together. I wanted to pick up the pieces but I wasn’t sure if I wanted to put them back together. I was going to have lunch with a friend of mine, I knew that I needed to lift up my mood in some way. I get these episodes of severe sadness but find myself terrified of anyone finding out. Instead of telling people my problems, I pretend they don’t exist. Keep my emotions locked away in a box, until I am ready to completely deal with them. It’s hard to pick yourself up, when you’re feeling down. It’s hard to force yourself to be who everyones believe you are, when you’re completely falling apart inside. You don’t want your outsides to reflect your insides. Because it hurts, everything hurts.

This feels so repetitive, broken record status. The same thing over and over again. I get it, I sound pathetic. No matter how much I try, I can’t get these feelings out of my head. What do I want? What should I do? Everything and in-between. The more I struggle to figure out what I want, the more time I wasted getting myself together. I could have cancelled today. I could have done a million different things instead of going outside and meeting my friend. I knew I couldn’t avoid the world forever. That maybe a little sunshine would do me some good. Some days I feel stuck in my surroundings and other days I can’t help but succumb to it. When did I become fearful of change? When did everything fall beyond my grasp? All I know is that if I can’t put myself together, at least I can get it together enough to be okay. Even if it’s on the outside. I found myself pushing myself to do things, even when I am emotional incapable of doing things alone.

There’s so many factors that tingle in my fingers and bring a chill to my spine. I realized more than ever how alone I feel. How the clouds feel as if they’re forming against me, instead of staying within the skies. The sun doesn’t beam down on me, it mocks and burns my skin and scars my insides. Still I knew I had to get up and do something about it. I knew that the longer I stayed this way, the more it would hurt to stop this feeling. I got dressed, put a shirt over my head and put on a pair of jeans. It just starts to feel like a routine, you put on your war paint and wait to go into battle. Today I felt more insecure than ever. I felt disgusting, I felt over weight, I felt that a million people were looking at me, when I was the only one looking at myself. I needed to get out of this feeling. I didn’t care what I looked like. I didn’t care that my face was bare or that I didn’t brush my hair. I didn’t care that my shoes didn’t go with my simple jeans and tshirt look. I didn’t care, but somehow on the days that I don’t care, I care way too fucking much. I realized that I’ve come a long way with my body, but I didn’t feel like dealing with it today. I didn’t feel like being much of anything. Somewhere in my mind, I decided I needed to go for a walk. Since my options are limited in my surroundings, I decided to park farther than usual and walk in my hometown.

I succumb to this stage of paranoia. Nothing I say makes sense anymore. If I knew what any of this meant, I would have all of this fixed by now. I sat in my car, wondering about all these sentiments. Wondering if I have really lost it. Wondering if I was steps away of losing myself. Wondering if I was already gone. You tend to look at things differently, when you’re not feeling like yourself. A four block walk, looks like a battlefield to me. That at any given moment, something terrible was about to happen to me. I was crazy to think that way but I couldn’t help but feel completely petrified and utterly alone. It had been a long time since I walked around in my hometown. Walked around by myself without someone guiding me or agreeing where to go. I almost forgot how aware I am about my surroundings. How differently everything looks. I’ve driven down these streets numerous times and I can’t believe how much has changed and how much has remain the same. I never realized what is surrounding me, when I am so busy looking down on the ground. I never realized how businesses from my past have left or been remodeled or just disappeared. How in the past few years my hometown went from flourishing to completely bare bones. I forget how much I have left of myself on the steps that keep being repaved or retouched in hopes of beautifying this town. I forget and I’ve forgotten how these steps wanted something better but instead settled for what was worse.

It breaks my heart to think that the past isn’t as perfect as we saw it. That even the bare bones of old buildings will make memories for other generations after me. I think of all the steps, I keep retracing thinking it will lead me home. I don’t feel okay but being home makes it all go away. Today, I saw flashes of the past with the sadden truth of my present. I saw the life beams of this town and the may times it opened different variations of myself. I guess you never realize how much something changes until you are truly faced with it. I always pretended to see but I was just covering up the truth. You don’t know anything until you really see them, really see the person for who they are. It took me a while to see that in my hometown, I wonder if people think the same about me.

 

 

Leaving.

I want to go to places where no one knows my name. Where no one knows my past. Where I can sit in silence and glance up at the stars. Runaway to the mountains to oceans to land, as far away as I can see. Keep my voice silent, keep myself still.

Anywhere, but here.

Take mental photographs of everywhere I go. Keep everything on the inside. Run away from faces, shapes, and time. Believe that only what is in front of me is what truly exists. I want to breathe in so deeply my heart trembles and my lungs fill every empty space with long lasting air. Feel the clean air absorb my lungs and slowly awaken my soul. Take a car ride to an unfamiliar place and be silent with the world. Where no one knows my secrets and no one tells me lies. I am running out of time with people. I am running out of time with myself.

Can I run away instead of staying in one place? It’s always better to be someone else, somewhere else.

I want to drink away these sorrows, wash away these feelings. Take away everything that’s caused me all this pain. Believe that not all good people do terrible things. If I run away from this, I will be running away forever. Running away from the pain that always follows and haunts my every step. But I can’t leave this place I called home. I can’t leave from the problems that will continue to follow. If I stay completely still these feelings will wash away from me forever. Just for a little bit, just for a little while.

Leaving.

8.09.15