Against Interpretation

  • 16 de Setembro de 2018

Things' been hard since I left Arizona. I miss my parents, I miss the sun in my eyes. Most of all, I miss the food. I miss the food with everything I have. Nothing I eat here has the same smell. The same taste. It feels very hard in my mouth. Very wrong indeed.
things been hard and not looking to get better. But to get home to my parents isn't going to happen. It won't get anything better.
If there's a God, I ask Him to be softer on me. If there's not, I would like very much to return to Arizona. Just for one day. Just for my parents. And then, for the food.

I drag myself here, and I sit completely alone, and then it's easy to doubt myself. But this happens a lot in my life. It's not just with me moving to here. It's not.
Arizona is not a place for me, also. Don't let my parents know. They care too much for me, they really love me, even if they don't talk it to me this really often. But I get this. If the knew, the next day I will pack my things out of Arizona.

But here's the thing: enough of escaping places. Enough is enough.
I will not return to Arizona, even if right now I feel I would get myself inside a bus and...and I really mean right now. 3am in the morning, me inside a bus heading to Arizona, just looking for my parents to accept me again and feeding me with good old Arizona food.

It’s not gonna happen. I know this, because I’m not moving a finger out of here. Not gonna happen. But God, that don’t make anything easier.
I miss Arizona.

would I write to my parents anyway. Dear mom and dad, I've failed once again, all your money has been of nothing, and I just burnt it all again. I want now to go back, as like this were going to fix all my problems. As like this were going to fix myself.

Dear mom and dad, I'm getting back home. Right now. Huh. Obviously not.

So, what should I do anyway. What would you do if you were me. Damn, it's never easy. Anyway. I can always fantasize, and get back to reality at morning. But days like that, I just lost my mind. Hard to come back.

I’m telling you this, because I’ve nothing left. I can’t really tell my parents, I can’t get back to Arizona to eat Arizonan food. Why do I care so much about what they will think, anyway. I tell to myself, what you need is a hobby. What you need is some working of any kind. To distract, if minimum. But one can has enough of distraction. I’ve had enough.

I've had enough, and I pack my things, my clothes, my books, and I plan up a nice apologize for them, for my parents. I'm sorry if I screwed things up. I'm so sorry. I was young. I was immature; everything was so different for me I guess I've become just drunk with the novelty. I'm really sorry. Please accept me back. I promise not to fuck everything again. I promise.

I would do anything for Arizona food in my mouth again.

I pack my things, but I can't leave, so I just stand by the closed door. It's 3am, it's cold outside. Not like Arizona. Maybe if I forgive myself, I can get back. At least, to Arizona. Up to this point, I'm certain my parents will never forgive me. It's fine, will be better for them. But maybe I can fix ourselves some Arizona food. Just a little. I know a thing or two about cooking Arizona.

A fantasize about that a little. How were things go...? Anyway. I drop my case on the floor. I'm not going anywhere far from here today, anyway. And them I go out, in the cold, to 3am not-Arizona land.