A Farm in Sad towns

The move. Was it really worth it?

Everyone has dreamed at one time of a utopia. The place absent from pain. The location that forbids the breaking of hearts. Honestly, I wouldn’t mind stepping foot there for a minute or so. That figment of perfection. The dream of refuge from the things that just make life unsatisfying sometimes. I don’t understand why. Circles upon circles of souls chase perfection. Upon disappointment they have to keep reminding themselves that it was a stupid concept in the first place. In the past, America, the land of the free was a utopia for the floods of immigrants. Rome, the great city most definitely built not in one day was a city of gold for its Inhabitants. Not really, It's just figurative but your catching my drift. Every society wants to be free of pain and establish a home. Thwart the homesickness that irritates them even when they lived in the same place their whole life. Its got to be true. There is a place out there that is right for us. Walking from town, after town, after town. We can't just find it. The purposeful, fulfilling place I call home. It just finds us. Somehow we just know. Breathe a sigh of relief and let things be. That’s not what I believed. I still don’t believe.

Then I moved to somewhere new. It was a new experiment. The constant drawl of small town gossip with the cramped social identity that emanates from the less than private homes of the city folk. To sum it up, I didn’t want to move there. I had plenty of reasons to sit in the house like the good little boy. Read the book that I could recite word for word. mess with my camera, meditate about what could've been.

Newviolet, Illinois, The armpit of the midwest. Certainly not for the rank smell even. It's just there. The world is a little messed up. Being stuck in the middle of Illinois, In the middle of the least exciting country in the world. I used to have a view on a coast. I used to take my notebook and just draw that way the trees could perfectly surround the sunrise. I used to have somewhere where it didn’t rain the same day the sun was out. I used to live somewhere I'd miss. So yeah, I'm new to the town. Newviolet. Population 439. With the busting tourist trade that would bring it up to 443. August 9th and school started in a week. The major thing that made us move here anyway is the "great" football team that they had here. The town pretty much worshiped the players. A drive by the train tracks close to the school had posts with the players names. numbers, and pictures. If I wasn’t looking, Im anticipating my manly birth giver may volunteer yours truly at tryouts. No offense, sports is just not my thing.

Newviolet, It’s a bit of a farm town. Our residential area is only 200 meters from a corn field. The houses are small. Either the citizens wanted a hobbit community or fell asleep halfway building it.It is what it is. Unfortunately, my mother is a social butterfly. My sister Sydney had the delightful joy of listening to the life story of Sandigo Rodriguiz Luiz Pablo Narcizo sr. Whom is our neighbor. Mr. Narcizo was a wrinkly one. With thin black hair and dark skin from all his experience from Mexico as he explained over brunch. He was retired. He enjoyed to plant. He also enjoyed to pet his cat while he smoked his pipe. Now that was pretty interesting. Guess one does not really like something about someone until they find a quality about someone that everyone hate but you like.

I don’t have a room yet. I have more of a cot adjacent to the kitchen till the boxes get unpacked. Like I said, one more week. Junior year of highschool. The metamorphosis of sophomores to upperclassmeness. What is there to expect really? My mother tells me a new school is like trying a new flavor of Ice cream. Its sweet in its own way. I would just sigh. I hate metaphors. I love my mom to death. I wouldn’t wish anything bad to happen to her or anyone really.

In reality, my summer wasn’t eventful at all. Well, yeah it was. There was sometimes I would sneak out and just sit in the old abandoned café with my friends and just be real for a chance. The 4 of us could just watch the world turn white with another ice age. Johnathan always said to live life like It’s a nice poem. Writing in the pages something beautiful. Then when we look it back over, I like what I read.The way it would interconnect would make the right days rhyme. Now that I'm gone. I can't just escape the daily autumn fall of the leaves when a new year came to be. Or see the snowflakes twist crazily and land with pride in the winter. I can't see the flowers turn colors with anyone anymore. Other than that, yeah that was my vacation. sitting inside and packing.Hastly, finding something to frantically write in my life's pages. My mother says to be optimistic. Maybe Ill find something beautiful to right in my life's pages in Newviolet. That could be a possibility. However, I doubt it. I really do.