High On Your Own Supply

Lunchbox has followed me everywhere.

Last night, in a moment of need to step away from quantifying loss for the end goal of a very expensive four year receipt, I pulled my words off the shelf and settled in to fifteen year young thoughts.

It seems that since the inception of for the right price, I have been trying to run.

Times are different. I succeeded in escaping, and escaping, and yet again breaking away. My desk has shifted from the chilly warm room of high school to the worn free thinking grain of the north. I have tried the soil in what is becoming a memory box full of addresses. I have a plan, I have the man behind the camera, I have won a game of hide and seek with quite a few ghosts.

And I am still running.

I know now that I am not trying to get anywhere. Right before the north, I spent a breath in Richmond, and Mealticket took me out for a goodbye dinner.

It's not the first, and it will never be the last. I said goodbye, and driving back in what always seems to be the pink evening before I depart, I felt a comfort.

Preparing to leave is no longer a strange feeling. It's what pulls everything together.

I just hope that one day, arriving will stop feeling so strange as well.