On a long and lonesome highway, east of Omaha

Go down



On a long and lonesome highway, east of Omaha

For a moment you think about running, but your legs won’t move. They already know.

It’s happening. The wave is high above your head and the sand starts to suck towards the sea, and you tell yourself ‘One more time. I’ll hate myself one more time. I’ll let it boil over one more time. I’ll break down just one more time.’

The wave hits, and you offer no resistance. You accept your situation, being drilled into the ground by the forces of your mind. You feel the shame and humiliation penetrate every pore, and let it. It won’t last much longer. It never does. You couldn’t stop it anyway.

While down there you might find a little piece of truth that got lost in that vast ocean of overdrawn metaphor. You might find a whole other universe of ‘one more times’ and faces and events you thought had left you. But it’s all still there. You couldn’t drown it. You pray that means it can’t drown you either, but you know that’s stupid reasoning.

You shouldn’t have tried to just push it all into the lowest lying areas, and spend all your time on higher ground. That was impossible. At least here.

Whatever else might be coming out of you while your stuck in the water and the sand – tears, screams, prayers, pleading, unstoppable urination – it doesn’t matter. You’re here. It’s happening.

But soon the wave retreats and the tide falls back. You find your footing on the sand, which has stopped pulling at your legs, content that you have now experienced that ugly side of yourself, one last time. You rise up, a bit embarrassed, but more motivated than before to find a better place. The ocean might’ve been you, but it isn’t anymore. You pick a spot in the horizon and take your first step.

Wayward ho! Away we go! To somewhere else, somewhere not here, someone new. This place is desolate, it carries nothing but the past, and it is alone. No one else is here, so they must be somewhere else. And I imagine it must be better than this wicked place, which drowns you with what used to be as you starve for just a taste of what is and hide from what could be.

Time passes. You dry off. The ocean looks far away now. You walk along the beach and lose track of things in the calmness of your mind. Suddenly finding someone else seems very difficult, and you think of all the ways that somewhere else might fail you. What if it’s too cold? What if nothing grows there? What if I can’t find my way back? What will I have to do to get there? What if nobody wants me there?

It gets easier to stay. You throw more painful memories into the ocean, knowing it’ll dilute and dissolve and leave you in peace. You pace your mind, comforted by its familiarity. It’s yours, after all. No one else’s. Nothing needs to be compromised, nothing needs to be risked. It’s… really not so bad.

But before long, you can feel it again. You’re not even looking at the ocean, but you can feel it in your bones. The tide comes in. The sand starts to suck. Your body is flung down by another crack of the same self-loathing, the same hurt memories, the same abandoned dreams and the same doubt.

But with it comes also the memory that you’ve been here before. More than once before. More than twice before. And here you are again. The waves no less cruel, the land beyond no more distinct, the horizon no less lonely, the self no more noble, no less pathetic, and no more wise.

This wave will leave you too. But another one waits behind it. Somewhere Else is still unknown, where the hell everybody else is you have no idea, and though you imagine Someone Else gently drifting to sleep in your arms as you try to rest and sleep yourself, you wonder how many more times you can take comfort in your imagination before it betrays you, and becomes a constant reminder of what you don’t have, haven’t had, and for all you know, won’t have.

You pretend it doesn't bother you, but you just want to explode.


Posts : 1024
Join date : 2009-07-31
Age : 27
Location : Your mother's a whore

View user profile

Back to top Go down

- Similar topics
Share this post on: diggdeliciousredditstumbleuponslashdotyahoogooglelive

On a long and lonesome highway, east of Omaha :: Comments


Post on Sat Mar 05, 2011 10:58 pm by strangerthanfiction

I wish I could write like this.

And it reminds me of this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=54k6Fc8a29Y

Back to top Go down


Post on Sun Mar 06, 2011 12:58 am by AgentW

metallica cover? or bob seger? the same, yet inspiration of each is different.

and are the waves fresh or salt water?

Back to top Go down

Post  by Sponsored content

Back to top Go down

Back to top

Permissions in this forum:
You cannot reply to topics in this forum