Nobody wants to leave what they know. No one wants a new setting, I see all the graduates of my school all around town still, going to the local colleges and still going to my School’s football games, the same old routine. Nobody wants to leave this small dome of Monroe. I sift through my memories and souvenirs, of the fun times in New York, running through Times Square, sitting on a rust colored piece of rock jutting out over the grand canyon, watching the gold sun illuminate the Canyon rim. Letting the gold flecked water of Coronado Beach, California  douse my hair as the gargantuan waves crash above me as I swim. I remember walking through the little bustling town of Madison Wisconsin and seeing the fun of a large University. Or sitting in the Vermont Grants as the Sun goes down and hearing new stories and conversations. Everyone knows you in a small town, your story, your reputation, why you are judged as one thing but not another. But when there is a change of scene, a change of people, you see new faces, new challenges. A new you can be written, especially at a young age. I can’t wait to see, to leave and write a new story, a new happiness.  My chains will be gone.

“Good mMorning, Bedford!” the voice drones through the PA, groggily I roll my eyes. I look at the blank gray walls, the smell of gas and the same old worn books and chromebooks. The smell of paper. The constant scanning eyes of teachers looking for the slightest bit of unruliness or the corner of a phone peeping out of a pocket. I see the same people,blank in expression, dragging their feet. I hear the whispered judgements and the latest gossip of the wild ones who do things that most normal teens in their right mind wouldn’t ,or their drama filled situations. The same shallow story, of one kid being envious or jealous of the other, things most kids remember for their High School lives. Certain people not talking to other certain people simply because of their faction, me being judged for who I am and related to, or a deed. Simply the fact they believed a rumor which indeed is only a story. You hear teachers ask the star quarterback along with his linemen being asked if they will win tonight, and you hope they do. As the days draws on you hear the same lecture, the same faces, the information is new but the way of learning is not . The monotony of it all. Then, maybe after school you go to a little restaurant like Sidelines or you make a quick run to Kroger, hoping for some peace, only to find the people who just recently graduated or go to school with you. Even at football games you run into graduates from generations ago or in little restaurants. I don’t understand why you would stay in the same square for the rest of your life. As I sit and stare at my dim chromebook screen, typing and thinking away all I can imagine is back to what I have done, what I want to see, besides the east and west coasts, feeling the frigid breeze hit my face on pikes peak, or the sunset chalk rocks brushing against my hand in Sedona, or back in Florida laughing with a bunch of college guys I recently met, them telling me wild fraternity stories on the back porch in a rocking chair, facing the roaring waves of the beach in the wee hours of the morning with tired voices and laughs.

The golden blonde locks gleam in the sunlight and blows gently in the breeze, the mist spraying on my  pastel clothes, she was very well put together . My eyes twinkle through the round baby angled face as she looks at the roaring waterfalls, her eyes seem to hold the seas in them, but not the raging stormy seas, but the calm playful waves. I  keep myself poised and quiet as I observe my surroundings, the different faces and new voices, As I sit  in a local florida bar on the docs, the air wet with humidity. When people approached me to talk, I  swallowed my self consciousness and insecurities, thoughts racing with Why are they talking to me? Do I look oOkay? I hope I am not annoying? I hope they don’t know who I am or hate me for it, or they know my small town reputation? Yikes. My responses are well educated,sharp as a tack but beyond my years, as if I never stayed in a spot for too long. My voice high pitched and smooth,rolling up and down when talking, and angelic when singing. My sarcastically dry humor causing a snicker or two.  I  hold the door open for an older couple, or pick things up complete strangers have dropped, I always am lending a hand even if I didn’t have one to give, my short and stocky body helping move things and redo. People more often than not tell me I  works too hard or too much ,when I look at them through tired eyes and a pearly tired smile . I made people laugh and was always open to listening, I always seem to know the right thing to say to the broken or speak softly. My laugh, almost like bird noises, high and twitter like , making people laugh harder than the one liner.”What a funny, well- educated, bright girl.” I heard someone mutter to my aAunt who was working at the bar. Everybody found my  story intriguing. But back at home, I wasn’t me, I have immense absence of love, because I don’t know how, I always felt like I was in the wrong, I am was just a young girl trying to be loved, and traveling is what is filling that void.

Traveling tells a story, the joy of meeting new people and being a new you, you aren’t judged and it is just the thought of something new. I hope to see new people, start a new life, a do-over in life, romance, so I only hope to experience more travels. I hope to whomever is reading this you understand. I hope you understand that I can’t live in the small town the rest of my life, with the same people and faces with the same reputation, I can’t have people knowing my story, of my brother being connected to me(as much as I love him), traveling is my escape, it broadened my horizons and gives me knew knowledge, add to who I am .It is something I carry with anticipation and excitement, it only ever  gets heavy when I stay in a spot for too long, I want to fly free.