you take the red line to morse

Dear K-

I headed out into the woods yesterday evening. Just as the sun began to dip in the sky, I jumped the last fence and wandered deep into the timber and brush, with no real destination in my head. But how is that different from my everyday life? Do I ever really seem to know where I’m going?

It felt good, that crisp, early autumn wind; I ignored the thorns that caught on my pant legs and sleeves and tugged me in various directions. After an hour or so, their tiny claws dragged me to the creek bed. The creek bubbled thick and black, like tar, as it ambled lazily past. I sat on the bank as night crept upon me and I just stared at my reflection in that murky water. Eventually, all I could make out was a shadowy figure with a glowing red flame for a mouth, the embers of my cigarette pulsing orange with every inhalation. I couldn’t help but think of all the crunchy dead leaves cluttered at my feet as my ashes gently drifted to the soil. Smoky the Bear would have cried that night.

We’re adults now, aren’t we? Doesn’t that mean we should have real lives and real jobs? You say you want the sterile house and the clean pressed dress shirts and the shiny shoes, and yet I’m still sitting out in the woods alone, chilled and ashamed. I want it, too. I want that life. I want the clean-swept apartment with wooden floors and imitation marble countertops. I want a window that opens to let me hear the city streets below as I read on the couch. When I go to sleep at night I want to know that when I wake up he’ll still be there beside me, and I can make him breakfast and kiss him sweetly on the lips before we each head off to our work.

But I don’t have that happiness yet. I’m still stranded in the small town of my youth, drifting through these autumn days and wondering if I should have stayed here after all.

I chose to stay. I chose to give up the life I had there, across the sea. And some days I still wonder if I should have just boarded that plane after all. I’m afraid that sensation may never fully fade away.

Consistently doubtful,
-K

Screaming madly east.

Dear K,

So, now it is Fall, and I've taken up running again, and I've also been looking back on everything I wrote to friends and family in the last year, because I keep a copy for myself. I've been so obsessed with myself. Really it has been disgusting.

But I guess it is only natural because I haven't had anyone telling me what I'm going to be doing five years from now, and I just realized that that has all ended. Now I know that I'm always going to remember this last year.

But I got a job, or anyway, now I'm living back in the town I grew up in. I've just realized that all those sappy sayings and movies and greeting cards about not being able to go home again really are true.

I just want to be clean. I want to live in an apartment in the sky, with white walls and a concrete floor. I want a shower with white tiles, and white towels hanging on the walls, and the sink in the kitchen and the counter-tops, everything is luminous and white, like some Scandinavian surgeon's dream. I want to go running through the streets in my appropriately anonymous work out attire. I want to shave every morning and wear a tie. I want to wear dress slacks and neat black oxford shoes, and my car will be clean and I'll have a briefcase and a stainless steel thermos.

And then a year from now I'll go screaming madly east, and jump into the hordes on the ocean shore and disappear forever in my youth.

What?
-K