Wanderlust

The idea of running away could be foreseen as many different options. For example, this could be escaping a certain mentality, or just running away in general. However, even if you could just escape all of your issues by leaving, I'm sure everybody would have considered that already. But never me. Everything always traces back to my name, everything follows me. The sun, always above my head, watching my every move. I turn toward a bookshop and make my entrance known by the librarians. I come to the realisation that every book is quite literally just the corpse of a dead tree. However, the majority of people love books, despite them being dead trees turned into entertainment.

My uncle always told me that knowledge will forever be seen as the strongest force of power. If you think about it technically it is true, as long as you have some basic knowledge on something you could figure anything out. This could be like playing an instrument, fixing a car, making toast. But what do all those things have in common? Words! Almost every single book consists of one thing, words! They're full of them!

The doorbell rings and I make my exit. The sound of my wheels connecting to the pavement strangely arouses me. The pavements smooth, not a pebble in sight. If you wanted my opinion this is the perfect place to skate. You can always tell the type of person based on their dress style. The woman in the beautiful rose red dress, with matching lipstick and red heels, is definitely a slut. She hooks up with men left right and centre just to take their cash. Perhaps she lures them in with a question like, "Do you want a drink?" any man would be foolish enough to agree. As soon as her first move takes place, she's able to get into anyone's house. I turn left and venture forwards, down an alleyway. The smell was a pure whiff of urine. There's a homeless man, sat on the floor. Hes accompanied by a dog and a cup full of pennies, just begging for just some sort of money. It's a shame, you and I both know what he'll use for money. With just a quick glance you could see from his body language and the scattered scars upon his arm that he is a junkie.

The High Street is an ocean of litter, full of good and bad things. One of the benefits of being unknown is that you can look at anything or anyone and judge them secretly, without having to give the public an opinion. Regardless of this, sometimes public opinions don't actually matter. I just wish that I could live a life full of adventure and happiness, without having to deal with the mundane struggles of normality.

There's always one persistent thought, which invades my head like a parasite. The inescapable feeling of wanderlust. Longing to be able to travel. Perhaps I should do that on my skateboard.

I finally reach my destination: my old, deteriorated house. Every single time I come back here I get the overwhelming feeling to just run away and never return. Don't get me wrong, I love my family. Adore them. But sometimes it can just be so much. Instead, I choose to be out and travel. My mom looks at me cautiously and glares at my board in disapprovement. "Your trousers are ruined! I only bought them for you yesterday!" she continued and as per usual I don't listen. Same old story. Yet I have a fraction of sympathy for her, she does go out and earn the money for my things, cares enough to buy them for me.

I look at her and go in for a hug. Sometimes that's just what mums need, to quiet the noises in their heads. My phone goes off. I ignore the first notification but then I receive a second and third and decide its best to check. It's Lucy. I wonder what she wants or needs. Whenever she messages me it's never, "How are you," or, "I've missed you," it's always, "I need a favour."
Sometimes they're as little as her talking at me and opening up about some terribly dramatic thing one of her ex best friends did. Yes, one of! God, she goes through them like no tomorrow. I'm surprised that I'm not next on her list of people to drop.

To my surprise, It's not a message. It's videos. A lot of videos. Why is she sending me these? I open the first one. Automatically I can see it on her. Lucy is drunk. But where the hell is she?