Your Sad, Uncomfortable Ride Home and What You Learned About Yourself
You're sitting alone, again. This time you're in the front seat. The very front, right next to the door even though you know it's reserved for people with canes or wheelchairs (that's what the sticker on your right is telling you) but you don't care. You're just trying to catch a quick nap before you remember where you're going.
You only manage to nap for about fifteen minutes. This upsets you and your clench your jaw. It hurt. You didn't mean for it to but it did and now you regret it. You try and take a look ahead of you and all you can see is an ocean of cars. Metal and rubber trapped on the pavement. You sigh to yourself and fall low into your seat.
You decide not to take another nap. You decide that you'll take in the sights. As you slowly move farther and farther away from a city you decided you like again and move closer and closer to a town you've grown to hate over the past quarter-century, you groan again. You think about how most of your high school classmates are still in that same town, drinking at the same bars, and telling the same stories about their glory days.
"My glory days are right now", you think to yourself.
You think about the people in your life and the things they have told you over the years. One sentiment rings in your head like a fire-alarm. They told you to get out of town as soon as you can, no matter what it takes. They told you that you wouldn't have the ability to flourish or grow or become a person or understand what it is to live.
You didn't believe them back then. But after spending a month of your life going back and forth and back and forth and back and forth to your terrible town and a city that you used to hate but now love again. You've felt more growth and had more rewarding experiences miles away from a place your peers have called, "comfortable" and "safe".
You think about those two words and how you never want to be either of those things. You want to be described with beautiful "two-dollar' words, you want to be painted with vibrant, loud colors. You want your life to mean something. You want to grow and flourish and whatever else those family members of yours said because right now, you can't remember.
You're too busy thinking about the future and what can happen for you if you truly apply yourself. You laugh a quiet laugh to yourself as the bus pulls into your hometown. You feel like things will finally change even though a piece of you dies every time cross the border back into the town you've grown in.