|
|
|
I subscribed to a bunch of travel sites that send me their cheap flights once a week. Usually if I'm broke -- which is all the damn time these days -- I just delete them. Today I paged through them all and read them. I get my last paycheque today after being laid off. I have just barely enough money left to get as far as Taipai or Hong Kong. If I drove to Detroit I could get a flight to Frankfurt or Amsterdam and still have enough cash left for a few nights at a hostel or maybe a couple of weeks of food. I could run away from home. I could leave this life behind. I could abandon all my regrets and my failures and my might-have-beens. I could walk away from every time I wasn't strong enough or smart enough or good enough. I could lose myself in the simple needs of survival. Food. Shelter. Avoiding predators. I could start over. Then the fantasy ends, and I delete the e-mails, turn off the computer and go back to my life. Because as sweet as the siren call is, I know it wouldn't ever really work. I know that eventually I would still wake up one morning and feel that familiar heavy weight on my chest. There is no bloodhound, no private detective in the world that is as resourceful and persistant as a memory full of lost loves and broken hopes. Because the one thing that I cannot abandon is my past. And the one thing I can't run away from is myself.
Last Updated November 27, 2000. Back to stuff Back to my home page
|
