Last One Out Of Liberty City Burn It To The Ground

There's a certain smell to the Midwest at 9:30pm at the end of July. The sickening sweet smell of blooming trees has faded and the whir of mowers catches your ear. This stretch of the country is plagued with heat and although folks might hide away indoors — once the sun starts to set it's a whole new ball game.

The cicadas drone on along side the John Deere's and the warmth of the pavement from the afternoon sun is reflected back upon your ankles. The sensory of a July evening is enough to make even the most hardened heart wax nostalgically.

I spent the better part of my youth trying to escape this part of the country. It's not that I hated it, but it always felt like quicksand, for everything. For life, for love, for art, for a career. It still holds those feelings for me, but I'll always be appreciative for the light breeze and the squeal of the bats overhead once the sun fully sets.

Most of my friends and classmates never left and their lives carry on just fine but part of me is still drawn elsewhere. I moved 9 times in 6 years and although that sounds extreme, the adventures and self-discovery that happens when you're away from family, and away from friends, and forced to be happy, and rely on life and love to show you a good time is comforting.

Here's to a fresh start. May we be guided on the next leg of the journey.