It seems like yesterday that I was just moving out of the house in my rebellious stage. The shitty little house on Bay Street was mine (renting of course) and the world was my oyster. It was where I turned twenty one and my y-axis was at zero. I had been through plenty of ups and downs previously in my life yet this was a new beginning for me. Once I left I ‘knew’ I’d never be back. Funny how things never quite work out how you planned.
The only reason I’m here right now is because of stuff. Things. As a kid I was brought here not because of the promise of a good life, but for the promise of money… For things… And the desire for something better. As a flashback I’m reminded of waiting to leave the house and I was tossing my super cool Velcro wallet in the air. As I missed the fiftieth catch and it fell to the floor my ass got handed to me. It was actually kindling sticks. I was told to respect money. Period. To this day I respect it like the hair on my ass. It serves a purpose, it’s not pretty and I wish it never existed but once it’s gone I realize how easy it made certain things.
To bigger and better things. I’m back in the town I sort of grew up in. It’s a really cool place with mountains and trees and water, but I’ve never wanted to be here. It’s not my home. After being gone for a few years and coming back again I still don’t miss it. I feel suffocated. With all that I’m able to spend some time on my boat (which by the way is for sale) and finally relax. It’s only been a few days and I can already feel the itch.
I’ve already lost myself in this blog because I’m pre-occupied with something extremely important to me. I’ll write about it soon enough. I’ve found something that has set me back on course and I really don’t want to fuck it up…