Drive
EMARCEA G FOREST
AUG 19, 2024
everyday is a constant battle between the urge to pack up all my things and leave and the diameter of rationality in my mind. the irony is that neither car nor box can sustain my imagination.
The anonymity that comes with writing is a virtue that I have only just begun to understand. I can choose any name and face and put my words to it, you would never know the difference, as long as the message there, I don’t care if you see me. Maybe I have been naive for believing that any of it matters, especially now. If you cannot see the signs: the war that has been brewing for years, the spiritual ailments that plague our society, our Earth, then I am sorry. It will be a rude awakening, and God has used up his kindness.
My dreams have been prophetic in realizing these truths. Floods, massacres, political downfall, genuine demise, total animation, shit you’d see in movies, or the prophesies that are broadcasted for entertainment. . . But we’ve been telling the same stories for eons. . . Maybe it’s time something changed. . .
I wanted to give myself space and time before I embarked on my next phase in life, and as I’ve been sitting here, waiting for something to happen I have realized that there will never be enough space or time, I will never be ready and my waiting will never be enough. So now, I want to drive and I want to be impulsive and I want to leave my country, but I can’t and I won’t. I cannot bail now. But if my battle cries are not heard, then is it even worth it? Will I just go down in silence? Can I offer anything to you? I can offer you my words, tokens of advice.
I have left this fake world behind. I have left with some of my things to go on a journey into a place where no one without the eyes to see will find me. I have thrown away my phone and tossed my education into the sea. I have collected with me, a few of my sacred objects: books, clothes, guitar, paper, toothbrush, perfume, candles. I have scarred myself with my drawings of mania and encoded them with my process to light. I have escaped and ran away, and each time I have, I came back. Now, I am not running, I am walking, with all that I am, all that I could be, and I walk towards my destination, and I do not care if I reach it there. I may die trying, that is a noble enough death for me.
Where will this journey lead? There is only one answer.
