This Must be Fiction

It’s not like my life isn’t exactly the way I had pictured it. That, in fact, is the problem. It IS how I’d pictured it ever since I can remember. Now, I suppose for most people that would be something to brag about. I had fulfilled lifelong goals, remarkable memories, and a family that never failed me. People were jealous of my life. People wanted the things I had. So then, why would I run away?

Well first of all you can’t technically call it running away. I am old enough to move away from home. My mother, however, would argue that. She won’t be able to fathom why I would escape my suburban home because she had done everything I asked of her and I in return. We had a constant give and take and we were both comfortable with that and then I leave… and her life is interrupted. My father and brother are of course always there for her, but we aren’t just family, mom and I are friends.

But I’m getting off track. This isn’t about the connection that holds my mother and me together. This is about why I’m leaving. Because I had been groomed for years to reach for the stars and to be all that I can be, and now that I’ve accomplished goals that have been set for me, I’m not sure what to do. My life has been laid out for me since I was probably in fifth grade. But… there’s some empty void that’s stopping me from moving on.

I Know what I’m supposed to do. I’m supposed to finish college, get a job as a journalist, and then retire at 60. But I can’t help but wonder… is that what I really want? I honestly have no idea. I think I want to be a journalist. I think I like college. But what if those thoughts are just what people are telling me? I haven’t had much of an independent thought in years. I’ll lay in bed at night for hours just staring at the ceiling and wondering what life beyond my borders has got to offer me.

I packed a duffel bag full of essential clothes, and a small back pack with other things I thought I might need. And then I left. Stuffed my things in my beat-up old jeep and left early in the morning.

I assume my mom read the note I had left around noon, because that’s when the phone calls began. She eventually gave up around one, about the time I had reached Pennsylvania. I had stopped for a few moments to gather my thoughts.

What am I really doing? Is this the right thing? Like, okay, I get it, I’m a confused adolescent who needs fulfillment, but is leaving home in search of nothing really going to get me what I want? But then again, what do I want? Maybe traveling will give me the answer to that. What do I want? Just keep that in mind… and maybe it’ll happen upon me.

I stumbled out of my car and stretched my legs out for a moment before walking to the rest stop. I bought a bottle of water, which immediately cleared my head a bit, for whatever reason. My mind felt much clearer. My eyes searched around the perimeter for something to read, and didn’t really find much. The guy at the counter sighed, and gave me a look as if to force me out the door. I rolled my eyes and headed for the car. On the way, I grabbed a road map and tucked it in my back pocket. Maybe it’d come in handy.

Once I climbed back into the jeep I opened the map. It was more complicated than I was used to, but I choose a destination that looked like it might have a hotel to stay at. It was past Pennsylvania, further south into Virginia, but it was near the beach and it for some reason I thought I would be a peaceful place to stay for a few days. As I pulled away from the parking lot, I suddenly had a strange feeling of accomplishment as I now had a destination, there was somewhere for me to go.

The drive wasn’t too long; I had gotten to the beach slightly after dark, which was the best time for me. I found perhaps one of the cheapest hotels in the area, which was fine. As long as there was a bed and a shower, I didn’t really care. After I checked in, I threw my bags into the room and laid on the bed for a few seconds, just staring at the ceiling. I rolled over and looked out the window, catching the glare of the ocean in the moonlight. I sighed, sat up, and put on a pair of flip flops.

Walking down the beach, shoes in hand, I contemplated my life. I knew I was completely alone and on my own. This new found sense of responsibility made me calmer immediately. Even though I didn’t have much money, and didn’t know where I was going, who was surrounding me, or what I was going to do, I felt safe. Things felt right. I thought about calling my mom and explaining things to her, but not only would she not understand, she would completely disown me. Well, she would at that moment anyway. Calling later would be best.

I planted myself securely in the sand and listened to the waves. Each time another one roared a new sense of safety washed over me. Why? I don’t know. The sound of white noise always made me calm. I lay in the sand and stared at the moon for what seemed like forever. The moon, never changed, never seeming less aw-inspiring at that moment. It was the symbol for my new journey.

It was still dark when I woke up. Someone was touching me. I jumped up immediately and backed away quickly from whoever woke me. He put up his hands in a defensive stance and smiled politely.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just making sure you were ok. It’s rather late.” He said.

My eyes were still adjusting to the moonlight and were still fuzzy from sleep. I rubbed them.

“Oh... it’s ok I guess. I should probably get home.” I turned in the other direction, not quite sure where I was headed. The man put a hand on my shoulder, startling me again.

“Are you sure you’re ok?” He asked, his voice cutting through my thoughts. I was terrified of this man because for all I knew, he was a rapist. I stepped away from him.

“Fine.” I answered, taking quick steps away from him. I heard him turn around and walk in the other direction. I sighed a breathe of relief, and walked the next couple feet to the hotel nearby.