Ecstatic on static sleep in the backseat, between a cooler and a pillow, driving late night and caffeine pills.

Fuck getting eaten by grizzly bears, I'll sleep with the lights on and noise blaring.

Going west, like it's some adventure or something. But this is home, this is home, this is home, holy God this is home, moving, motioning, dozing, with cheap disposables and trite roads, but it's not the same. I've never been West, not this far, not this concious of it, I'm too ready, too abundant with anticipation.

Two Weeks, a sad independent song self-titled for the span of it all, and Trey put it best, Trey put it great: "You must be ready for going out there and not knowing a thing that it offers." Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes can't you believe it?

I'm bailing, this is it, I'm off the chart, I'm dropping the program. It's under the seat. My feet are crumpling it. Bye, all the missing's going to make my heart explode. All of you, God, all of you, the missing's going to make my heart explode, you Objects of my Affection.

I remember when I first moved here,
A long time ago,
'Cause I heard some song I used to hear back then,
A long time ago,

I remember even further back,
In another town,
'Because I saw something written I used to say back then,
How to comprehend,
And the question is was I more alive than I am now?
I happily have to disagree.

I laugh more often now,
I cry more often now.

I am more me.

This is all a little melodramatic.

Nathan Myers is a writer based out of Cincinnati. He has a Facebook, but probably won't be friends with you.


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