Sev
I’m currently working on a fiction novel told as the memoir of a recent college graduate.
We all made plans to move out and move on…now we find ourselves back here. Under the same city lights. Leaning against the same cracked, moldy concrete walls. Taking endless drags from the same cigarette. It could be any burnt-out highway town, but it’s home. You can spend your entire life running away from something and all of a sudden find yourself right back where you started. If you drown out the interstate, it’s nearly verbatim. Seven years. We never really left. Christ, does anyone? How can you be so sure of something so huge? It makes me wonder sometimes why things went the way they did; young naivety hurts, it destroys ‘til it kills. The pretense of commitment. It’s the kind of thing you lay awake at night thinking about. The kind of thing that makes you silently leave your bed at three in the morning for a walk. The kind of thing that turns that walk into a drive, and that drive into an escape. And if you drive the night, and if you cruise into a familiar town on fumes, and if you realize that you spent your last dollar on a Big Gulp, all the better. The last things we need are excuses.
