Now that I'm "becoming" somebody, I'm finally getting comfortable with being out in the nothing. But the nothing is a something, a big heavy something - but one that I can maybe carry, now that I'm grasping what I was looking for. I drag the eyes of the world out into the sandy woods, where my grandmother's grandmother raked and farmed the clay dirt. But, those worldly eyes can't see through mine, it's all for me in my moment. Tristan didn't share my affinity, but I went out to Columbus by myself all the time. I wish the trains were still there. The train station in Raymond is now quite the groovy - and - archaic in its own way - record store. The one in █████ is a fuckin coffee shop. A crap one, too. The bobcats screeching, the heat on my arms. How do I miss it? There is something, though. Something that fills the space only because the trains don't run anymore. It's a feeling. Prickles on the vines, black berries and bumping rides. Rinsing blueberries in the sink. Picking ticks off of eachother. Smacking mosquitos. So scared, staring into the night. Crickets. Shells of cicadas. Briar bushes. It only works if it's more of the "nothing". Reality bends and twists out there. Dreams feel more sweaty. You dream more when you're awake, too. I'm glad I don't have to yearn for Jackson, or for Oxford. I've been outside now, so the place I'm really from can be what it is. And the stories. The tornadoes ripping up shingles and tossing chickens onto roofs. Sorry, chickens. So sorry. A smile there against the fossils, the trees and the torture of all it was and is... A smile there is as warm as the sun. I knew it would happen, but I'm happy it is. An intelligent eye looking back is a miracle against the treeline. I'm not nervous anymore to sing when I speak. Guess what? ████ █████ ██████████ █████ █████ ██████ █████ ████ ███████ █ █████ ███
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