get lost.

Everyone has something. For some, it's the early morning air, a quick run in the park. For others, it's the late afternoon sun, yoga on the lawn. For me, it's the crisp evening breeze, windows down, speakers bumping out my latest favorite song. We all have to find a way to protect ourselves, to create an inner sanctuary where no one can get in. We all have enemies and secrets and we all have to find some way to live a double-life; keep our secrets tucked away and our enemies at bay while the rest of the population idly believes each of us is happy and content.

I call it "getting lost". I've lived in Corpus for a little over a year now and still don't know my way around this damned city. So on days when the weather is nice and I'm really into my music and I have a full pack of cigarettes, I get behind the wheel and let myself get lost. I turn down any street that looks appealing and fly down the tiny back roads. My weak speakers rattle trying to push the music out and the wind threatens to rip out the innards of my car.

And yet, I drive. There's something in this, something that keeps me sane. Miles of white-painted lines fly by my window and I can imagine I'm peeling off every layer of hate and pain and letting it out. With other drivers minding their own business, I can finally cry or scream the lyrics of every song. As I drive, I let my thoughts sort themselves. Our brains need no guidance to make conclusions - they will find the answers on their own. It gives me a minute, with no worry or fear of being lost, when I can truly relish in the ideas around me. I can make sense of the people around me and of their actions. I can be confident and make big decisions on my own, without fear of failing. I can be someone I'm not... someone I dream of becoming.

For that hour, with just my cancer sticks, music and the road, I have found paradise. I have found the safest place for myself, a place where the rest of the evils in the world can't gain access. Where all the wretched people who live around me, where all the hateful two-timers I've had the misfortune of knowing, where all the people who talk forever and get you more upside-down than ever, can't come in. Home base; safe.

The trick, though, that I'm sure everyone knows, is to hold in the back of your mind the notion that this is only temporary. When you peel off your running shoes or roll up your mat or park your car, you have to step back into life, back into the demands of your boss, family and professors. Back into the world of neighbors that will never know each other, back into the struggle of daily living. It is this that makes life so bittersweet. This half-way high of peace. A high we are forced to come off of. And if you have ever known an addict, you know how much farther down they slide when the high wears off, until they're worse off than ever and asking "was it worth it?".

We're all addicts, in a way. Addicted to keeping sanity and control and finding a way to handle life's daily mispleasures. So I leave you with the only question I can't find an answer to: is it worth it? Is pushing through life numbly worth it because somehow it'll all pay off later down the road or in Heaven? Maybe, in the end, we all have to stop kidding ourselves and come to terms with the fact that this is it. Karma may or may not pay off for us, we may or may not be alright when we get through the tough stuff, Heaven may or may not exist and accept us. Regardless of what may or may not be, I think we're obligated to realize one thing: today is it. Make the best of everything, no matter how treacherous it is. Roll with the punches and find contentment in leading a less-than-movie-star-fabulous life. Because it's all we have and it's only what we each make of it.

"Yesterday has already passed. Tomorrow has not yet arrived. We have only today: let us begin." -- Mother Teresa