Banshee Screams In Ohio

It’s been eight long days since I’ve thrown away the key to my proverbial dungeon. No shakes, no tremors, no sweats. No anything really… except maybe regret. I imagined the first steps towards “decent living” would be paved with a little more pizazz. Or at the very least, an indication that this path is headed in the right direction.

Where is the meaning? Is there a Light at the end of the tunnel or is it just the cheap lamp on my desk?

The biggest adrenaline rush I’ve felt lately was winning 5 bucks from a brightly colored scratch off lottery ticket…. that cost 5 bucks. That’s what you get for seeking instant gratification, Mr. E. Steven.

I have no taste for mundanity and middle of the road thrills more bland than a styrofoam & cardboard sandwich on wheat bread.

Failure comes easy at a time like this and the idea of failing totally & miserably seems quite reasonable. Though, I seek more than an altered state of mindset. Burning rubber on the same stretches of roads that lead back to the comfy confines of suburbia leave me feeling rather hollow. As vast as this world is, I’ve rarely ventured outside of the 10mile radius I was born into.

I don’t think I’m any better or worse than the folks around me who seemed to have settled into a place they can accept. But I’m not comfortable and haven’t been for as long as I can remember. Common sense tells me to just get the hell out of dodge. If an irksome song comes on the radio that makes you wish for the peace that only deafness could provide, you don’t sit through the tune and complain about it. You simply change the station.

But my life isn’t a radio station. And I can’t really scan through different possibilities until I find one that fits.

I could, perhaps, learn to live with the idea that I’ll never find peace & happiness. But if I could just get my hands on either of them every once in a while, I’d be able to do the best I could between high flights & nights in the ruts.


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