Points of Interest
Chapter One
Have you ever attempted friendship with an ex-boyfriend? Let me tell you this - next to crocs, snuggies and wasabi shooters, it ranks up there as one of the worst ideas ever.
As it stands, Adam and I are still friends. Best friends, to be exact. Everything is exactly the way it used to be, pre-relationship. Except for, you know, those damn feelings and shit that were standing in my way.
It was a spontaneous choice. If we’re being honest here, I will be the first to admit that I am not a spontaneous person in the slightest. I like to have everything planned down to the second, every last detail accounted for. That being said, let’s just say that when I made this decision, I was most likely not in a very stable state of mind.
Adam is at my dorm. It's the last week of school; my roommates are moved out, his roommates are moved out, our stuff is moved out except for the bare essentials. I don’t want to spend the night on my own, and I have to wait until tomorrow for my resident director to check me out of the place.
Adam stays at my dorm frequently, by the way. We even share my bed – the couch is too uncomfortable for me, and he’s too tall for it. So despite the, you know, feelings, it felt perfectly normal for him to be curled into my back, his arm draped around me and his chest inflating against my spine.
It’s about two in the morning, and I can’t sleep. I’m lying in my bed with Adam beside me. Propping myself up onto my elbow, I turn to take in his features. Short, honey-auburn hair, which was sticking up rather adorably in every direction. His lids were closed over the most striking pair of blue eyes I’d ever seen in my entire life. I let my eyes drift down the length of his body, which took up pretty much my entire bed. I had never seen someone more beautiful in my entire life.
In an instant, I couldn’t stand the sight of him. Here, in my bed. Suddenly, I wanted him gone. I wanted to be gone.
In a split second, I'm out of my bed, out of my pajamas and into a pair of shorts and a tank top. Sliding my feet into my moccasins, I grab my backpack, stuff my last two outfits in alongside my laptop, chargers, iPod and books, all pre-packed, and sling it over my shoulder. I take one last look around my dorm room before letting my gaze rest on Adam. Walking over to my bed, I drop my keys on the nightstand, a kiss on his cheek, and walk right out the door.
xxx
Stepping outside my dorm building, I breath in a breath of fresh air, the feeling of suffocation that had overwhelmed me indoors suddenly disappearing. Quickly, as if I were being watched or followed, I make my way to my car, place my backpack onto my passenger seat and hop in behind the wheel. I have money in my bank account – I spent absolutely nothing I made from work unless it was on groceries – a full tank of gas, and absolutely no destination in mind. I don’t need a destination, I just need a direction. Pulling out of the parking lot, I make my way down the road, flip on my blinker, and make my way down the expressway.
source
Welcome, online blogging world. My name is Anna, and this road trip is living proof of my masochistic tendencies.
I don’t know why, but I’ve decided to journal this trip.
This is the most insane thing I have ever done. This is the sort of things people talk about, you know. “I’m going to graduate from college and get the fuck outta this town, man.”
Except I’ve actually done it. I have money, I have a car. I stopped by my apartment at the last minute, turning my car around only to grab some essentials, like clothes and cash and books and hygienic things and CD’s.
I’m gone.
Most people leave on an account of wanderlust. Or they at least plan these things. I haven’t thought out anything. Where am I staying? What am I doing? What is the purpose?
For now, all I know is that I have a broken heart, and this trip is ultimately a journey in order to get away, while trying to get some answers.
Let’s face it. For a while, I have not been well. Adam and I are still best friends, sure. But I look at him sometimes and I don’t know whether to cry or to punch him in his face. I cry at the drop of a hat almost all the time. I still have our stupid photos and ticket stubs and trinkets in a box, which I stupidly added to my possessions at the last minute while packing for my trip. Further proof of my masochism, if you ask me.
Right now, I’m at a Waffle House, grabbing a bite to eat, typing this up. I’ve only made six hours progress and I’m in Pennsylvania. Somewhere. Don’t expect me to document places here because I could really care less about geography, or maps. I don’t care so much about the journey as I do about the destination which, as of this moment, is still unknown. I guess I’ll end up wherever I end up. When I decide I’ve have enough of this hopefully temporary bout of insanity, I will settle down, or turn around, or do whatever this seeking of a great perhaps ends up accomplishing.
That’s the motto of this trip, by the way. I’ve just decided. In honor of John Green’s Looking For Alaska, I go to seek a great perhaps. Perhaps I will get my answers, or some sudden realization, or just a new life plan altogether. I don’t know. Do I sound neurotic right now? I’ve been driving around on about two hours of sleep and my darling waiter Chet has not brought me my coffee.
If you somehow stumble upon this page, feel free to follow my travels and my thoughts. I can’t guarantee anything interesting but hey, maybe between you and I, some much needed insight and support can be shared.
Ah, what am I saying?
Here comes darling Chet now, with my coffee and a plate of bacon the size of my head. Instead of hoping that good luck would be on my side, I’ve decided to start this trip with an intentionally good omen – you absolutely cannot go wrong with bacon and coffee.
As I sit and eat, I will put together the following playlist for my car:
Presenting, Heartbroken Masochist, Volume One:
1. I Won’t Give Up – Jason Mraz
2. Avalance – Marie Digby
3. Fallout – Marianas Trench
4. The Last Song Ever – Secondhand Serenade
5. Tongue Tied – Faber Drive
6. I’ll Follow You Into The Dark – Death Cab For Cutie
7. You’re Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go – Bob Dylan
8. Seven Years – Natalie Merchant
9. So Nice, So Smart – Kimya Dawson
10. Ring Of Fire – Johnny Cash
11. Fix A Heart – Demi Lovato
12. The One For You – Michael Lowman
13. Time Bomb – All Time Low
14. You – The Pretty Reckless
Sometimes, you just need a good cry, you know? These past months, I’ve been at the mercy of sneaking a few tears here and there. I have roommates, or I have classes. I really have not had the time for a full-on bawl-fest, which I figure I am in desperate need of.
Hence, this playlist. I figure as long as I can still see where I’m going, or I can find a deserted parking lot, that eventually, a song or a lyric or a melody will finally allow the breakdown that I can feel has been building up inside of me for quite a while. When it’s time, it’s time. I have visions of me having a breakdown a la Emma Pilsbury from Glee, when she’s sobbing in the car, and that girl from No Strings Attached stuffing her face with powdered doughnuts.
Er … I really, really hope it does not get to that point.
Anyways, this plate of bacon has been calling my name. I didn’t want to start eating yet because I don’t want to grease up my keyboard. I’ll check in when there’s something to report to you anonymous and most likely non-existent blog viewers.
I slide my laptop to the side, waiting for my CD to finish burning, and inhale the salty, delicious, bacon-y scent. My stomach rumbles and I waste no more time before digging in, stopping only for the occasional sip of coffee.
As I shovel in my food (shame! I have none!), I take in my surroundings. Waffle House has never been, is not, and will never be, my first food choice for food, ever. It’s greasy and I swear, I just saw a bug crawl under the counter. But I am hungry and fading fast and I figure I can risk it if it means getting some caffeine into my system to keep me going for a couple of hours.
At that moment, my phone starts to vibrate, rattling itself across the table. Shooting a glance at the screen, my pulse quickens when I see ADAM flashing across my screen. I silence my phone and wait anxiously for the beep that would announce a new voicemail.
beep.
"Anna? Where are you? I woke up and you were gone! Your keys are still here, but you could have forgotten them … you didn’t leave a text, or a note, or anything! Call me, okay? I’m worried. Your RD is going to be here in a few hours to check you out. Your dorm, I mean. Check your dorm out. He’ll check you out, anyway. He always does. Creep. Anyways, call me, or text me, let me know you’re not dead. You better be getting doughnuts. Ciao."
I smile at his barely-veiled annoyance aim towards my extremely flirty resident director, Shane. What he doesn’t realize is, Shane flirted with everyone – a little detail I may or may not have chosen to leave out.
Then, suddenly, I am annoyed. Who was he to seem jealous? He had no right to … woah. Anna. Calm yourself.
See, this is exactly what I mean. I used to be relatively calm and level headed and now, I am constantly mood-swinging and getting angry or upset at the smallest of things.
With a heavy sigh, I slap fifteen dollars down onto the table and stand, ejecting my newly burned mix CD from my CD drive, slipping it into a case, and putting my laptop back into my backpack. Slinging my laptop onto my back, I walk out the door and take a quick pit stop at the gas station next door, where I’d filled up before breakfast.
I walk inside this time, grab a small basket and fill it to the brim with cheez-its, sun chips, some doughnuts, a few containers of apple juice, some sunflower seeds, a few packs of gum, and fill up a cup with a frozen coffee slushie. I bring everything up to the counter, only turning for a second to grab a twelve pack of grape soda, a 24 pack of water and a bag of ice from the cooler next to the counter.
I may or may not have a junk food problem.
I face the cashier, who gave me an are you serious? look, which I return with an equally horrifying I dare you to say something gaze of my own. Shrugging, he ran up my total and I fork over the required cash. It took me two trips, but I got everything to my car. Depositing my backpack and bag of snacks onto the passenger seat, I open the trunk of the car and took out a cooler that I’d had in my trunk for ages, the last time it seeing sunshine being the homecoming game at the beginning of the school year.
I open it and the bag of ice, placing the cooler on the ground and dumping ice unceremoniously into it. I then stuff it with the water bottles, grape soda, and apple juice.
After throwing out the plastic and cardboard, I hoist the cooler into the back seat – behind the passenger seat for easier access – slam the trunk shut, get in the car, and make my way back down the expressway.
Destination: To be determined.
As it stands, Adam and I are still friends. Best friends, to be exact. Everything is exactly the way it used to be, pre-relationship. Except for, you know, those damn feelings and shit that were standing in my way.
It was a spontaneous choice. If we’re being honest here, I will be the first to admit that I am not a spontaneous person in the slightest. I like to have everything planned down to the second, every last detail accounted for. That being said, let’s just say that when I made this decision, I was most likely not in a very stable state of mind.
Adam is at my dorm. It's the last week of school; my roommates are moved out, his roommates are moved out, our stuff is moved out except for the bare essentials. I don’t want to spend the night on my own, and I have to wait until tomorrow for my resident director to check me out of the place.
Adam stays at my dorm frequently, by the way. We even share my bed – the couch is too uncomfortable for me, and he’s too tall for it. So despite the, you know, feelings, it felt perfectly normal for him to be curled into my back, his arm draped around me and his chest inflating against my spine.
It’s about two in the morning, and I can’t sleep. I’m lying in my bed with Adam beside me. Propping myself up onto my elbow, I turn to take in his features. Short, honey-auburn hair, which was sticking up rather adorably in every direction. His lids were closed over the most striking pair of blue eyes I’d ever seen in my entire life. I let my eyes drift down the length of his body, which took up pretty much my entire bed. I had never seen someone more beautiful in my entire life.
In an instant, I couldn’t stand the sight of him. Here, in my bed. Suddenly, I wanted him gone. I wanted to be gone.
In a split second, I'm out of my bed, out of my pajamas and into a pair of shorts and a tank top. Sliding my feet into my moccasins, I grab my backpack, stuff my last two outfits in alongside my laptop, chargers, iPod and books, all pre-packed, and sling it over my shoulder. I take one last look around my dorm room before letting my gaze rest on Adam. Walking over to my bed, I drop my keys on the nightstand, a kiss on his cheek, and walk right out the door.
xxx
Stepping outside my dorm building, I breath in a breath of fresh air, the feeling of suffocation that had overwhelmed me indoors suddenly disappearing. Quickly, as if I were being watched or followed, I make my way to my car, place my backpack onto my passenger seat and hop in behind the wheel. I have money in my bank account – I spent absolutely nothing I made from work unless it was on groceries – a full tank of gas, and absolutely no destination in mind. I don’t need a destination, I just need a direction. Pulling out of the parking lot, I make my way down the road, flip on my blinker, and make my way down the expressway.
source
Welcome, online blogging world. My name is Anna, and this road trip is living proof of my masochistic tendencies.
I don’t know why, but I’ve decided to journal this trip.
This is the most insane thing I have ever done. This is the sort of things people talk about, you know. “I’m going to graduate from college and get the fuck outta this town, man.”
Except I’ve actually done it. I have money, I have a car. I stopped by my apartment at the last minute, turning my car around only to grab some essentials, like clothes and cash and books and hygienic things and CD’s.
I’m gone.
Most people leave on an account of wanderlust. Or they at least plan these things. I haven’t thought out anything. Where am I staying? What am I doing? What is the purpose?
For now, all I know is that I have a broken heart, and this trip is ultimately a journey in order to get away, while trying to get some answers.
Let’s face it. For a while, I have not been well. Adam and I are still best friends, sure. But I look at him sometimes and I don’t know whether to cry or to punch him in his face. I cry at the drop of a hat almost all the time. I still have our stupid photos and ticket stubs and trinkets in a box, which I stupidly added to my possessions at the last minute while packing for my trip. Further proof of my masochism, if you ask me.
Right now, I’m at a Waffle House, grabbing a bite to eat, typing this up. I’ve only made six hours progress and I’m in Pennsylvania. Somewhere. Don’t expect me to document places here because I could really care less about geography, or maps. I don’t care so much about the journey as I do about the destination which, as of this moment, is still unknown. I guess I’ll end up wherever I end up. When I decide I’ve have enough of this hopefully temporary bout of insanity, I will settle down, or turn around, or do whatever this seeking of a great perhaps ends up accomplishing.
That’s the motto of this trip, by the way. I’ve just decided. In honor of John Green’s Looking For Alaska, I go to seek a great perhaps. Perhaps I will get my answers, or some sudden realization, or just a new life plan altogether. I don’t know. Do I sound neurotic right now? I’ve been driving around on about two hours of sleep and my darling waiter Chet has not brought me my coffee.
If you somehow stumble upon this page, feel free to follow my travels and my thoughts. I can’t guarantee anything interesting but hey, maybe between you and I, some much needed insight and support can be shared.
Ah, what am I saying?
Here comes darling Chet now, with my coffee and a plate of bacon the size of my head. Instead of hoping that good luck would be on my side, I’ve decided to start this trip with an intentionally good omen – you absolutely cannot go wrong with bacon and coffee.
As I sit and eat, I will put together the following playlist for my car:
Presenting, Heartbroken Masochist, Volume One:
1. I Won’t Give Up – Jason Mraz
2. Avalance – Marie Digby
3. Fallout – Marianas Trench
4. The Last Song Ever – Secondhand Serenade
5. Tongue Tied – Faber Drive
6. I’ll Follow You Into The Dark – Death Cab For Cutie
7. You’re Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go – Bob Dylan
8. Seven Years – Natalie Merchant
9. So Nice, So Smart – Kimya Dawson
10. Ring Of Fire – Johnny Cash
11. Fix A Heart – Demi Lovato
12. The One For You – Michael Lowman
13. Time Bomb – All Time Low
14. You – The Pretty Reckless
Sometimes, you just need a good cry, you know? These past months, I’ve been at the mercy of sneaking a few tears here and there. I have roommates, or I have classes. I really have not had the time for a full-on bawl-fest, which I figure I am in desperate need of.
Hence, this playlist. I figure as long as I can still see where I’m going, or I can find a deserted parking lot, that eventually, a song or a lyric or a melody will finally allow the breakdown that I can feel has been building up inside of me for quite a while. When it’s time, it’s time. I have visions of me having a breakdown a la Emma Pilsbury from Glee, when she’s sobbing in the car, and that girl from No Strings Attached stuffing her face with powdered doughnuts.
Er … I really, really hope it does not get to that point.
Anyways, this plate of bacon has been calling my name. I didn’t want to start eating yet because I don’t want to grease up my keyboard. I’ll check in when there’s something to report to you anonymous and most likely non-existent blog viewers.
I slide my laptop to the side, waiting for my CD to finish burning, and inhale the salty, delicious, bacon-y scent. My stomach rumbles and I waste no more time before digging in, stopping only for the occasional sip of coffee.
As I shovel in my food (shame! I have none!), I take in my surroundings. Waffle House has never been, is not, and will never be, my first food choice for food, ever. It’s greasy and I swear, I just saw a bug crawl under the counter. But I am hungry and fading fast and I figure I can risk it if it means getting some caffeine into my system to keep me going for a couple of hours.
At that moment, my phone starts to vibrate, rattling itself across the table. Shooting a glance at the screen, my pulse quickens when I see ADAM flashing across my screen. I silence my phone and wait anxiously for the beep that would announce a new voicemail.
beep.
"Anna? Where are you? I woke up and you were gone! Your keys are still here, but you could have forgotten them … you didn’t leave a text, or a note, or anything! Call me, okay? I’m worried. Your RD is going to be here in a few hours to check you out. Your dorm, I mean. Check your dorm out. He’ll check you out, anyway. He always does. Creep. Anyways, call me, or text me, let me know you’re not dead. You better be getting doughnuts. Ciao."
I smile at his barely-veiled annoyance aim towards my extremely flirty resident director, Shane. What he doesn’t realize is, Shane flirted with everyone – a little detail I may or may not have chosen to leave out.
Then, suddenly, I am annoyed. Who was he to seem jealous? He had no right to … woah. Anna. Calm yourself.
See, this is exactly what I mean. I used to be relatively calm and level headed and now, I am constantly mood-swinging and getting angry or upset at the smallest of things.
With a heavy sigh, I slap fifteen dollars down onto the table and stand, ejecting my newly burned mix CD from my CD drive, slipping it into a case, and putting my laptop back into my backpack. Slinging my laptop onto my back, I walk out the door and take a quick pit stop at the gas station next door, where I’d filled up before breakfast.
I walk inside this time, grab a small basket and fill it to the brim with cheez-its, sun chips, some doughnuts, a few containers of apple juice, some sunflower seeds, a few packs of gum, and fill up a cup with a frozen coffee slushie. I bring everything up to the counter, only turning for a second to grab a twelve pack of grape soda, a 24 pack of water and a bag of ice from the cooler next to the counter.
I may or may not have a junk food problem.
I face the cashier, who gave me an are you serious? look, which I return with an equally horrifying I dare you to say something gaze of my own. Shrugging, he ran up my total and I fork over the required cash. It took me two trips, but I got everything to my car. Depositing my backpack and bag of snacks onto the passenger seat, I open the trunk of the car and took out a cooler that I’d had in my trunk for ages, the last time it seeing sunshine being the homecoming game at the beginning of the school year.
I open it and the bag of ice, placing the cooler on the ground and dumping ice unceremoniously into it. I then stuff it with the water bottles, grape soda, and apple juice.
After throwing out the plastic and cardboard, I hoist the cooler into the back seat – behind the passenger seat for easier access – slam the trunk shut, get in the car, and make my way back down the expressway.
Destination: To be determined.
♠ ♠ ♠
This is new, obviously. It just came to me one day out of nowhere. At this point in my life I really should not be starting another story and yet, here we are. I have a good feeling about this one. Comments would be very, very much appreciated; any and all feedback welcome.