The Surrounding Areas in Unafraid

Perhaps you’re like me. Maybe you’ve lived in the same area of land your entire life. Born in a city, live in that city, die in that city. If not the city, then at least close by, maybe a neighboring city, but not too far away.

One thing I’ve slowly started to notice in the 24 years of living in the same strip of land is how perceptions of places change if you stay too long. When you overstay your welcome. When a place tells you a story, introduces you to new and exciting characters, but then you decide to stick around after the credits roll even though there is nothing left for you. That’s what it feels like living here. The stories have already been told. The characters have introduced themselves and moved on. You went on your adventures, but the adventures are over. So why are you still here?

I shouldn’t be upset at the city. The city did it’s job, I’m the one who failed to do mine.

The Ghost Town, for that’s what it truly is, is where I was born 24 years ago. A small “city”, a population of a little under 35,000 that dwindles every year. One of the few places in my home state that loses numbers consistently every year, nobody wants to live here. I remember when I was a child how much I despised this place. I’d tell everyone who would listen how I would leave one day, like a damn prison inmate bragging to other prison inmates about the big prison break they were planning. For a brief time, I escaped. But this place is like a damn magnet, it knows how to draw you back in if you let it. And that was my fault. All of my friends have left this place. All of the stories this place could tell me are done. I’ve accomplished every quest, every side-quest, spoken to every major character. And yet I’m still here, walking in a city of old memories and broken futures.

The Country Hovel is where I grew up. The Ghost Town is where I was born, sure, and where I went to my school and spent most of my time, but the Country Hovel is where I laid my head down at night to sleep. Situated about 30 minutes outside of Ghost Town, I was deep in the countryside. About as far from civilization as you can get in this area of the United States. Miles of tobacco. Miles of corn. Miles of cotton. This is where a good chunk of my family decided to lay their roots for whatever ungodly reason. We aren’t farmers, we aren’t redneck huckleberries, but for whatever reason we surround ourselves by them. At least there’s no light pollution at night. The stars are so pretty. Official population of the Country Hovel: less than 200.

BBQ City is where I spend most of my time now. I try not to go into Ghost Town too much. I work in a factory in a small city of 19,000 that’s probably more well known for its BBQ than anything else. I know nobody here. I have no friends here. I do not wish to know anybody here. I do not wish to be friends with anybody here. This place is just a stepping stone. A temporary stay at a hotel. These people mean nothing to me. I smile to them, and I’ll talk to them at work. But it’s all an act. Formality. There’s no point in making friends here. They’re all temporary.

Destination City is the end-goal. This is where I need to wind up at. If I can make it here, I know things will finally turn around for me. I can move on. An hour or so’s drive east of here towards the water. A young town, but nearly 100,000 in population. Small, but not too small. Enough to do there to keep you busy and entertained. Better nightlife, better food, better people. A chance at a fresh start. I just need to get there. I will get there.

It’s time to get out of here. I don’t care what it takes, I will eliminate every distraction, I will cut out of my life what few remaining people I have left if that’s what it takes. They were all just going to leave one day anyway. Just like the rest did.