Freewrite #37 – Just So Puzzled

Great escapes are stories I’ve been thinking about often ever since I read Into The Wild by Jon Krakauer. Wouldn’t want to spoil much, but I found it so wild how Chris McCandless cut himself off from all of humanity just to realize how important it is to be with others. A feeling I believe we all feel when we start to wonder what our purpose is on this dear planet.

Because, there’s so damn many of us. Many born into the flaming grips of anguish, branding souls poor before giving them a chance to define what makes them feel rich on their own. Many born into arms giving them the necessary tools to cut through any rope being swung around their necks by those hoping to hang up their dreams. And, here am I, trying so hard to figure out what I was born into in order to escape this labyrinth of thought…

On most days, I can’t really recognize my baby pictures inside of my own head since most albums of family photos my Mother kept were stuffed with more of my siblings, including my father even though her disdain for his existence was massive. Besides my lost files forever buried in the land of, “What the hell did I even look like,” my mom and dad moved from apartment to apartment too many times to remember any of them quite clearly while growing up. All I remember was always being fed with a roof under my head (and bedrooms to hide in whenever the whips came out) to sleep under. Definitely had loads of entertainment with our SNES, Game Cube, PlayStation and free PPV we had through illegal cable we all some how received back in the days (90’s babies know what I mean). Felt rich, dude!

Yet, to anyone else, my family was poor since mom and pops could never afford rent enough to stay in one place, always struggling with bills even though my siblings and I were fed and clothed. And, to a degree I’d say they were being that my mom spent a plethora of nights eating 25 cent Wise chips making sure the rest of us had dinner in our young bellies. Regardless, I never felt poor whenever everyone seemed to be happy years ago. Now that everything is broken, I find myself asking one question. Where do I belong? Why does part of me feel empty? What am I meant for?

Moments like these, I can’t help but wonder if what Chris McCandless felt at home inside of his mother’s arms. What if I did within mine as well? Would he have ever ran away into a wild where survival is closer to the Unknown? Would I have ever isolated myself from my own and become remote from anything under their control?…

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