a little blurb i never posted
The way a junkie continues to use while looking for that first high. The way a gambler won’t leave their machine because they know the next pull will be the jackpot. The way an alcoholic just drinks to escape. The way a smoker needs that nicotine rush first thing in the morning. The sex fiend and that surge of endorphins as they release without care of where, how, or who. That is my life. Chasing something that when found I may be too strung out to recognize anyways.
Travelers talk about their addiction all the time. And while they share them too, it’s not the ones listed above. No. It’s not that at all. It’s the addiction of the road. The everyday of waking up knowing it’s new people, new places, and new experiences that lay ahead. That’s the addiction we share. When you just keep going to keep going and keep looking for something. Something that can’t be described, only felt. Something that HAS to be out there, but you don’t even know what it is until you stop searching. You just end up with a series of stories that on the surface mean nothing. Nothing more than the passing of time. Something that my peers will latch onto as if I did something nobel. Maybe I can tell my grand kids one day when they’re old enough to understand. Maybe by then I’ll be old enough to understand. Maybe after settling down and reflecting on it all I’ll be able to beam with the pride I had before leaving. The pride that I was going to take charge of my life, and no matter what happened, knowing that following your heart can never lead to failure.
Did I tell you about the time in Texas where I was so sleep deprived I was hallucinating? How about that time in New Mexico where I danced in the rain and mud with my family? What about when I fell in love in California? One time in Utah I got picked up by some cops. I slept on the streets of LA back in August. I met this hitch hiker in the middle of nowhere and kicked it with her for a few days. I went rock climbing in the Rocky Mountains. I went caving in West Virginia. I thought I was going to freeze to death in Colorado. I got attacked by fire ants in Austin. I nearly stepped on a rattlesnake in Joshua Tree. I tried to sleep in a park once but the sprinklers went off. I camped in someone’s front yard that I met at a liquor store. Passed out on a sail boat in a harbor. I got picked up by a guy who wanted to have sex with me. I crashed in the driver seat of an 18 wheeler. I shot my first gun, got my first tattoo, and still haven’t found it yet. But I know it’s out there just around the next bend. It HAS to be!
There isn’t a day that goes by that at some point I don’t say it’s over. Time to hang up the backpack for a bit. Let the blisters heal. Let the scars fade. Stop in at my favorite restaurants. Sala Thai. Polish Village. Goldengate Cafe. Drink a beer with my friends, and laugh about that one time that is really no time in particular. See some familiar faces. Spend some time with my family. Go to my favorite brewpub and play a game of cards. Check out my favorite dance party and see if my friends are still there waiting for me on the dance floor when I said “see ya next month!” Walk those familiar streets of Detroit and know that I have a place to rest my head at. I have a fridge full of food in someone’s house. Hot showers, cold beer, and all the laundry I feel like doing. Everyone always said “if you need anything call me.” I need a break, guys.
But then day after day I find myself still out there. Freezing, tired, hungry, miserable, and looking for my fix. Chasing that high that I once felt. That high of what it means to be alive. To wake up in god knows where on the side of highway who knows what with destination who fucking cares. But, I’ve always said the destination is pointless. There is no destination in life. “From birth to death, it’s just like this.”
That’s some beautiful shit
I just noticed that there is a little smiley face at the bottom of the page.