I’m damn good at running away. I’m probably better at it than anything else I’ve ever tried. And, as you can imagine, this can create a lot of problems for me; quitting becomes easier, there’s always such a mess to clean up after one returns to the place they’ve tried to abandon, financial destructiveness, etc. Sometimes, running away is a good idea, however. Sometimes, running away is the best idea I’ve ever had. Not very long ago, I ran away to Dallas.  Here’s what that looked like.DSC_0081

On an August night, I found myself lying in bed at 1 AM unable to sleep, which gives me immense anxiety. I have insomnia. It’s annoying. But on this particular night, it was unbearable, because it was indicative of everything I was experiencing in my train wreck of a life. So, being an escapist like myself, I begin to imagine how great it would be to be somewhere not lying in bed at 1AM unable to sleep. I imagined the beach, or Paris, or the Andes.

What occurred to me, was how depressing it felt to be trapped; shackled by routines, burdened by the abstract expectations that loomed over me, telling me that I should be more normal.

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Essays, Photographs, Writing

An Escapist Takes Dallas

Gallery
Writing

The Inner Workings of a Placeholder

Tumult. Tears. Tribulation.

Can I make it to see 22? Burden buried deep in the chest, please just give me a moment to rest. Love in the cosmos, twirling in the starry universe. Kissing, and a fluttering heart. I have felt love, and what magnificence! Do you know how it feels to feel euphoria in your fingers? It feels quite euphoric, I suppose. The kind of euphoria that packs up its belongings and drives away. Through the mountains, through the valleys of green, drives away to curl up. I did not think about why I shouldn’t drive away, but rather how I couldn’t stay in this place. Continue reading

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