#emilyhancockphotography

[writteninmyshadows]

The Traveler

When I travel anywhere, it really hits me

Just how monotonous our lives can be

Driving through small, anonymous towns

Seeing all of the small, anonymous dwellers within

So wrapped up in their individual lives

So unaware of all that is beyond their little bubble

I drive past the small, run-down gas stations

The crappy fast-food chain stops

Trailer houses with dirty, chipping paint and rusted roofs

Empty streets, with wandering passerby who I hope don’t notice me

Peeking at them from the safe haven of my car, driving down the

Ill-attended roads worn down from the bad weather of the past

I wonder, how could these people be happy?

How does one find joy in this dull, isolated place?

I know they say humans are creatures of habit

We don’t know what we don't know-

That is, we don’t know what we’re missing

We lie to ourselves and say we are happy where we’re at

Though our hearts scream at us otherwise

Only some of us truly understand the gravity of our dissatisfaction with life

Only some of us understand the plight of our imperfect human existence

We aren’t truly happy with this endless life of routine and stability

How could we be? We want so much more.

Why else would we daydream? Why else would we write stories, or make art?

We want to escape, and we all have varying levels of consciousness about it

We all have some amount of wanderlust- we all want to live, to truly live

To explore, to face challenges, to experience all the beauty that the world has to offer

Each of us, in our own way, feel this pull

But here, as I pass through these sad, dull little towns 

I see no beauty

I see no happiness

Maybe I’m not looking hard enough

Maybe this is all just me

Maybe this is just the depression talking

But it’s how I feel, and it’s how I see things

So bleak and colorless

How do the people who live here keep going?

More importantly, how do I keep going?

It’s safe to say, I don’t like traveling very often.

-EH