Anywhere But Here
Wanting to escape, no matter where you are.
Any time, Any place
I’ve been running my whole life. Pointlessly chasing my own tail — while desperately trying to lose myself. No matter what, I can’t get away, and I can’t seem to catch up.
I don’t even need to be moving. The place doesn’t matter. My parents’ living room. The DMV. A white, sandy beach on a picturesque island. There I am, ready to react. Poised to ruin a good time or to make the least of a bad situation. Either way, looking for the door.
This pattern started young. I remember so many family outings when I wore a sour puss. It always felt like the worst drag to do anything I disliked. I developed a reputation as the difficult one.
From my cousins’ birthday parties to Thanksgiving dinners, I hated them all. Every event seemed so phony. People would talk smack about each other as soon as they turned around after being friendly to each others’ faces. Someone always seemed to say something to get under someone else’s skin. The music was never anything I would listen to. I felt out of place.
But part of me wanted to participate in the celebrations. I wanted to feel festive when I was supposed to. I wish I could get up and dance each time my mom asked me to. The day of the year didn’t matter…
