I am seventeen
-and-a-half years old, and at a crossroads
Last weekend, I walked down a quiet street in Manhattan (they do exist), and thought about the chain of events
that led me here.
I ran away from home when I turned 16. Now-- This wasn't a traditional running-away-in-the-heat-of-anger. Rather a well thought out and meticulously
planned escape, so much so that even my better judgement was ineffectual against its rationality.
I applied to school
. Got a full scholarship. Packed my bags, my Trinitron
, and left-- my parents could not stop me, and I think they were afraid
to-- for good reason. At the time, my sister had cancer
, and my parents had more to worry about than me
Only later did I figure out that this was the point of no return. I now had an education
, a place to live, a job. Once the thrill of independence
wore off, the realization
of independence set in.
Now I've wandered off
again, and found myself in New York City
doing kind of well for myself, I've done selfless research, and then sold out to the man
. I've been entertained by all that New York has to offer and entertained all sorts of grandiose
and righteous ideas (much like this writeup). I've met people, some bright eyed youths straight out of the corn-fed midwest
, eager and hopeful, and some products of the ghetto-made-good who have 'lived' more than I have had I been 40.
I've lived in extremes, sometimes with no money, sometimes with too much. I've known famous people, and spent birthdays
I've done the things expected of all of those burnt-out I-know-the-truth-at-seventeen prodigies. What do I have left?
I sometimes wish I'd just stayed at home, and spent some time with my parents
before our relationship so abruptly
changed from their being caregivers
. They're thinking of selling our house
and moving to Manhattan
, and I'm trying to convince them not to. I was raised in that house from when I was born-- Even though I know I can't go home again
, if that house is still there, a piece of my childhood
still exists. Unconditional love
I jumped into the river, too many times to make it home. I'm out here on my own, and drifting all alone.
I think it's time to get my head out of the clouds.
Vote this down, if you like-- I don't ramble like this too often=)