I'm not really. . .appreciating the beauty you're trying to show me. You are not doing this for me. It's really not helping my well being, and really I'm just kind of tired of maintaining you. So I think we need to take a break away from each other for awhile. Maybe just a week. I just need to be free and relax for awhile, not care about you or the people you bring me. Or I need to just start a new one. You've been pretty great, but lately you haven't been quite so desirable, and I need my life to be desirable for me because I'm a little unstable at this stage. So I'm done.

Chapter 1

Ah, Texas. A zillion miles of highway. About a billion miles between towns. About ten billion miles between cities. About a trillion miles from home.

Home: noun. A place where one lives or resides.

I left "home" about four months ago. Quite simply, I kind of fucked up there and decided to come back later when things cleared up a bit. I wouldn't say I'm one to run away from my problems, but. . . the truth is I am. I do run away from my problems, and rather shamelessly, might I add.

I guess I'll elaborate a bit on how exactly and to what degree I fucked up back home. First I humiliated my parents by being gay. Then I humiliated my boyfriend by opening up to my parents. Apparently being open about one's homosexuality is a no-no these days. After this, my boyfriend broke our relationship off immediately, beginning the "cover-up" stage, as he called it: going hetero, if you will. Football. Pizza. Beer. Jerking off. To be honest, I wasn't too excited about the whole shame thing involved with this. My parents weren't speaking to me and the one person I would have gone to for comfort didn't want to comfort me and, even if he did, was too involved in being heterosexual.

So after a little panic attack, a few hours of debating, and some twitching, I decided to hit the road. Find a new home temporarily. Clear my mind, start of a new life, spiritual bullshit like that. It was my decision and I planned on sticking to it.

I drove to Louisiana for a number of reasons: I had a friend there. Actually, that's it, really. I had a friend there that was willing to be a pal and offer me a job. Unfortunately, I hadn't heard that Louisiana is apparently big on you can imagine what my minimum wage full-time job ended up being.

I lasted a month before I got fired. Yeah, fired. I didn't even quit poking fish guts, I had to get FIRED from poking fish guts. So I got on back into my trusty Taurus and, on half a tank of gas, drove as far from Louisiana as I could. I blew the last of my cash on more gas and food. I ended up finding a job at a pizza place in Dallas.

I quit this job. I'd accumulated enough money to survive for maybe a week and a half, two at most. After that, I just drove where the road took me.

Well, the road took me in a circle a few times. That's why, after another two months, I'm still in the middle of fucking Texas.