I have a dream of packing up everything I really need in life under ute canopies and driving away from this place. Skittling into the sunset, away from the bright lights of Melbourne. If the sunset really exists in any concrete form I’ll find it. City life is harder than ever before, it seems to me. We’ve become machines- unthinking, unfeeling, and closed to life. I’ve been grinding my teeth away at a desk for years now. My back is out, I hunch over my keyboard as I type this, fingers bent and crooked, dreaming of an escape.
I can spend my days lounging in tall forests, wading through long blowfly grass and sleeping out back in my hardy aluminium trays, nestled up in a rug and staring at the stars above. I’m not scared of the wilderness, silence and solitude, I enjoy it. I don’t want to do things anymore, I want to be. I want to feel again. And when my ute runs out of petrol I’ll hike along the dusty road and work behind a counter, or pick strawberries, until I can pay for another tank. I can munch on edible weeds and forage for mushrooms to nourish my body. But I don’t eat much anymore so I’m not worried.
But what about my family, my wife? My children are all grown up now, they’ve outgrown their parents and now I barely get to see them. I’ve been replaced by new people and new experiences.
My darling Patricia is gone and that’s okay, that’s natural. I won’t give up life just because I’m alone now, I refuse to. My most precious belongings packed up into my sturdy aluminium toolboxes so nobody can steal them or even touch them because they’re mine and mine alone now. My time will be my own, and I can disappear when the time comes, and that sounds absolutely beautiful to me.