I’m driving and as usual the window is down and the sun is hitting my left cheek. My arm is out of the window and I am making waves with my hand. I almost always make waves with my hand. I have Pandora hooked up via an aux cable because I can’t figure out my car’s Bluetooth device and I am driving south, with no real destination and I am quite content with that.
I’ve been neglecting phone calls and texts lately and I feel like a failure as a friend but right now I just need to drive and have no destination and not answer phone calls and texts which I know will open with the inevitable question “How are you?”
And the fact of the matter is I am not fine. I am not fine at all. I am battling this monster and it’s something I have to do on my own right now. And I can’t lie, because as soon as the words “I’m fine” form on my lips the voice in my head screams as loud as she can “LIAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
So I avoid and I drive. So far this week I drove north and found myself on a secluded beach walking up and down the shore for hours. I found myself at a state park kayaking the river alone and at another park hiking and kayaking until I ran upon a 6 foot alligator because I was so wrapped up in my thoughts that I didn’t see him until I was on top of him.
I feel trapped in my own head and the only time I seem to have any peace is when I am alone surrounded by nature. I have decided that I don’t wish to have a “job” or even live in a house. I thought about putting an ad on craigslist to find a like minded person to go off the grid with but reconsidered when I realized the likelihood of me being raped and killed was pretty real.
The funny thing is I don’t feel lost, I feel like no home would feel like home. Every time I put on “work clothes” and head off to an interview I hate myself. I don’t want to wear heels and skirts. I want my feet in the earth and my hair dirty and my muscles in use and my eyes to find beauty. I want to wake up to the sound of birds chirping and the sun shinning on my face. I want to find someone to travel with, to love, to open up my big, stupid heart to…
I want to wander with no destination. I want to create a life for myself that doesn’t require a vacation. I want to write and create and take photos of the undersides of mushrooms because they look funny to me. I want people to connect with. I want to try dreadlocks or rainbow hair because I won’t have to worry about an office or a supervisor looking on disapprovingly, as if the external components of my being have anything at all to do with my ability to do a job.
I want to have 3 outfits to choose from, mostly yoga pants and my only decision to be what part of the earth to feast upon that day. I want to play the guitar well…and finally perfect a standing split and co-write an epic poem with a random stranger and share whiskey over a campfire at sunset on a day far too hot for a fire and revel in the sweat pouring from my head because it means I am LIVING my life, my way on my terms and not being used as a commodity for the 1% of the population free enough in resources to do the things I crave but waste the opportunity buying buildings of concrete instead.
I want to wander from room to room in my head and rediscover why I love swing sets so much or why the smell of gardenias take me back to my childhood, or why we called the women who lived next door to us “Grandma Eve” when she wasn’t related to us…
I want to know if the time capsule my brother and I made is still buried under the ficus tree on the side of the house on Hibiscus Avenue where we lived as kids and I wonder what exactly we put there…I cant seem to remember.
I want to wander until the only place left to go is the only place I can go alone, the other side of that great divide between life and death…
I have become a gypsy soul with a wandering heart and a will to love everything of this life.