Flora and Failure

don't let your dreams be dreams

An old friend once told me I should follow my heart to the ends of the earth. I only have one life on this world, and I should be happy. This same friend turned out to be a gigantic douche bag, but the advice stuck.
Now, it's been a couple years ever since I decided that university just wasn't meant for me, and it took a while to figure out what was, but now I know. After listening to my heart, I realized that there's something else I could listen to- music. More specifically, my music. So, last week I bought a guitar and told my parents about my revelation. They supported me, and even supplied me with the money to invest in a van, my new home on wheels.
This town is small, they said, you'll never get anywhere. Leaving them was difficult, but at least I'd only be a couple hours away.

A couple hours is longer than it seems on the road. Currently, the radio is the closest thing to company I have.
"London." The word felt weird on my tongue, and an unsettling thought poked at my stomach as I came closer and closer to it. I'd been before, but only on school trips. Now, I have to find a way to survive here.
Prior to the trip, I began writing songs. The guitar was an easy thing to learn, especially with my large hands. Now, I began to ponder. What kind of message did I want in my songs? What horrible ex-friend could I sing about and get away with. Well, the possibilities were endless. My fingers began casually drumming a beat on the steering wheel, the occasional hums leaving my lips as my mind felt up old rotten memories. That's the message: Relationships suck, and music is a great way to express your pain in a pleasant way.
Maybe one day I could be a rapper. The thought distracted me from my other thoughts, but the idea of being Kanye's right hand man on stage gives me shivers.
Gentle thunder rumbled in the distance, and I suddenly felt very sleepy. I suppose it was justified; I don't remember the last time I didn't pull an all nighter to work on my music. And now was a good of a time as any to try out my new sleeping bag. Night began to take over, and there was an abandoned parking lot calling my name. I pulled into it and began to draw the blinds on my windows. I don't want any creeps watching me sleep, and with that thought I double checked to make sure the doors were locked. I began to feel exhilarated, and my chest felt like exploding. This was the first time in forever that I'd be sleeping in a another place besides the bed in the house I'd grown up in.
As I crawled into the cozy space, I began to think of home. My mother, who loved to knit and fill the house with her violin playing. My father, who could outcook Gordon Ramsey if he wanted to. The cats that loved everyone they met, and the feeling of safety, and knowing everything would be okay.
Now, I thought as my eyelids drooped, I have to take care of myself. I can find safety in these six strings.