That’s the best (and most) anybody’s told me yet. So, let’s see…
Three years, I’ll be fifteen here pretty soon. Still, though, that’s too long. And no, unfortunately, there’s no other solution. Either a) I see whether such thing as an afterlife exists (I don’t believe it does), or b) I leave here. Those are my options.
Look, my dad’s terrible. Smartly, too. I can’t even get him in trouble for alcohol or drugs or anything like that. I honestly think it’s mostly just his PTSD that he refuses to get treated from Iraq.
Anyhow, you get used to doing some nasty things to yourself. Get used to not noticing the scars two hours after you get the injury. Get used to being tormented daily, all freaking day long. Get used, all of you, to being cooped up with an insane guy for the last seven years without any other social interaction of any kind, being homeschooled by him so that it never, ever goes away. Get used to not seeing any other human beings, to not being allowed to talk to the neighbors, or do anything, be it listen to music or literally anything but just sit in the kitchen and stare, forced to live your life inside your skull, then you’ll all see why I want to go, far, far away.
As for my plan, I haven’t got one. All I know is that the mother of a girl about my age (and whose entire family treats me like treasure for some reason) told me that should I have to leave again, I could come to their place and they could help me. I don’t know anything else, except that I need to get out of the state of Montana. As much as I like it, I know it’ll make it easier for myself to leave the state. That’s why I was trying to ask for advice.
The real world? Oh, yes. Yes, yes, yes. I know exactly what it’s like. The thing is, I really don’t care. Also speaking from personal experience, I understand it. I may have been locked inside the house for seven years, but I’ve still seen and experienced and felt things. The real world is a nasty, evil place. That far-off magical land outside the windows of your parent’s safe, warm house? Yeah. That’s where it all is. Hope. Adventure. Thrill. Pain. Happiness. Misery. Suffering. Laughter. Poverty. Family. Torture. Evil. Death. That’s where it all is, all of it. We should all consider ourselves the luckiest people in the universe, who get to sleep in a bed each night, who can go on days without freezing, who have access to water and soda and junk food and god knows what else every single day. But, you know something? Not everyone excepts that sort of life. Like me. There’s more out there than that.
What’s the most valuable thing in the world? No, really, I want y’all to tell me: what do you think is the most valuable thing in the world?
It differs for every person, based on their experiences, be them positive or negative. For me, the most valuable things in the world are Time, and Life. Those two things are worth more than all the gold in Kentucky, or the world. Worth more than New York City at an auction. They’re priceless. Absolutely priceless. Well, funny thing is, everything comes with a price, or a limit. You’ve only got so much time, then you’re out. You don’t get any more. You only get so much life, then you’re out. You don’t get any more.
I will accept death over failure, Cheerless. Seriously. I can’t take it any more. Ask Commando, but I beg of him not to tell the world the things I’ve told him. I do not fear death, I embrace it. What do I fear? That’s complicated, and this isn’t the place for it. But, in short, I fear being stuck with my dad (though I’m not sure I fear him himself), and the Unknown. Humans are bred to fear the unknown. And I need to stop talking about this before I get to typing it too much.
I honestly don’t care what happens to me, as long as it’s away from my dad, and preferably as long as it’s the opposite of what he wants. Okay, no, I don’t want to be out in the Hole (refer to Joe Dirt on YouTube if you don’t get that) or tortured or something. But really, I can’t do this anymore. I can’t wait three more years, I just can’t. I can’t!
I was in a rush last winter, but I did have base layers and things. Still, yeah, I wasn’t thinking clearly. The only thing in my head was: “I have to do this, I’m doing this, I have to hurry, I’m doing it, I have to hurry, hurry….”
Summer will be better, but it’s all about planning. “Failing to prepare is preparing to fail.” It’s got to be perfect. Exactly perfect. I’ve still got, what, a little less than a month and a half?
My dad wasn’t relieved when I came back. Both of my parents were just relieved that they didn’t have to pay the huge bill, they could get out of the cold, they could stop looking, and they could get to bed again. They want to be rid of me, and it’ll do no good to say that they don’t. Yes, they care for me. I’m fed (I suppose, always hungry though), given a bed, heat, water…. But my dad told me himself, in one of his rare good moods, no less, that I was an accident. I don’t just want to get out, I NEED to get out. For myself, if not for everyone else. Plus, I intend to reveal myself a little bit. I’m already doing a little work on some crazy clues, like finding the correct music video on a slightly hinted YouTube channel, and then altering the lyrics by adding one letter and using the music scale, written out as sheet music to see a map of a location I intend to go to….it’s kinda complicated. But it’s not like, even supposing my mom did care, that they’d never hear again from me.
As for myself, I’m not all that concerned. That girl’s mom did make me promise not to do any train-hopping no matter the circumstances, so I’m sure they’ll be other promises.
Im not trying to be rude, just trying to explain it all. Apologies if I came across as rude. You actually seem interested in helping me, so I can’t thank you enough for that. Please post any advice as an answer to my original question, asking for advice.
Thanks, Cheerless, again.
Silver
