Stepping out of the claustrophobic space that was my home, into beautiful sunlight which had somehow still always felt melancholic
Dragging my feet down the small street to the trail I had yet gotten to know
To a trail of traintracks, surrounded by greenery and the smell of Summer
I stood there, staring down the tracks that must've gone for miles and could've taken me anywhere
Anywhere but here
Take a deep breath,
Start walking.
One can only go so far from what's home, so I go back to the what's only considered a house
Day after day I make the trip down the road lined with decrepit houses on each side, to an opening in the forest,
To the tracks
I get further each time
Staying out later,
Walking slower,
Taking up as much time as I could.
Seeing those tracks and the forest surrounding it change gracefully throughout the seasons,
Yet never being able to appreciate the beauty of it all
Looking back on it though, I remember
Remember how each season smelt
How the air felt
The colors.
Winter was my last season there,
I had made it pretty far down the tracks by that point
The last step I took before heading back for the final time left me standing at the end of the tracks, a road infront of me and the next set of tracks following after
I stood there for longer than necessary, the scenery ahead of me hardly something to be admired,
I didn't want to have to make that trip back.
I was so tired,
So tired of what kept driving me further down the tracks.