the streets with no name

August 10, 2007

I want to run

I want to hide

I want to tear down the walls

That hold me inside

I want to reach out

And touch the flame

Where the streets have no name

– U2

I’ve always felt trapped. It doesn’t matter where I’ve travelled, where I’ve lived, and who I’ve been around. I feel trapped inside of me. I want to be released and let myself soar around the world and find some meaning to my life.

I want the opportunity to rediscover who exactly I am. I’ve been raised on a set of morals and standards, I’ve gone to school to learn what’s right and what’s wrong in the world, and I went to University to learn what good practices are versus bad. I’ve worked in a dozen environments now, and haven’t felt comfortable in any of them.

I feel as though I can’t live the life I want to live. There are too many sets of eyes upon me, judging me for my actions, my words (and lack of words), how I dress, and my desires. Lately, people have not been shy about making their judgments more public on me, but it is all done anonymously.

Attacks at night with no presence. Lipstick smeared on windows, voice mails, strange visits to my workplace, and childish behaviour in the bars.

a street without a name It is all unwarranted in my opinion. I have done nothing negative to anyone in the community and have only been generous in my actions and finances. But if the community wishes to push a good soul out, then so be it. I want to go some place anonymous, where I can wander the streets without fear, without questioning my next move. I want to sit down at the bar to have a drink without being marked as an alcoholic loser. I want to enjoy my life again.

And the first step towards enjoyment and happiness is to get out of this community as soon as I can.

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One Response to “the streets with no name”

  1. Anthony Says:

    I’m curious as to how one becomes so anonymously persecuted.
    As for anonymity, indeed, this place suprisingly doesn’t work so well for those who desire to be so.
    This community is so ravenous in its appetite for inclusion and participation, that scorn is readily heaped on those who choose to remain outside of the community.
    Why should I be made to feel guilty for having no desire to volunteer for the Canada Games? Because I really had zero interest in watching kids play ping-pong.
    I always feel there is pressure to involve oneself. Run for Mom, Walk for Dad, Jog for Grandma…etc
    This town is simply to small for someone who wants to lose themselves in a crowd. Almost immediately, people who choose to live on the periphery of the community, must deal with ridiculous labels the rest of the town puts on them.
    “Hey, it’s that weirdo.”

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