Places

I like to say that my true love is a campground. I've never been very good a falling in love with people. The idea of "human love" has always evaded me. Humans change and don't always know how to articulate their thoughts and quite often just suck at communicating. Places, however, do not, which probably has a lot to do with that fact that they don't have brains or emotions or anything like that. But I do have brains and emotions and all of those things. And I fall in love with places. I grew up going to the same campground every year. I know that place, the dirt roads and the path to the beach, the beach and the buildings, the little field just to the right of everything. If I had spent that much time with a human it would be expected that I would become attached to them, whether I liked it or not.

The same thing applies with places.

In my place I am often completely isolated, yet never alone; it forces me into my own head, so that I have to self-reflect and be comfortable being my only friend. I don't have to try to explain my thoughts to it, because it already knows. It makes life feel more real, because I'm not forcing myself to be something for somebody else, or worrying about accomplishments, or doing what I "should" be doing. In my place I don't have to be anything. I can simply drift. A body doesn't even really seem necessary; I could just let my thoughts out loose and see where they chose to go. My place might not have brains or emotions, but I've never felt more possibility than when I've been staring up at the sky while swimming to the middle of the lake. My place is plain and blank and therefore I can turn it into whatever I please. I can put faeries into the bushes, or into plain sight. I could make all of the plants sprout ears. There could be a whole merworld beneath my toes as I paddle through the water. There could also be the creepy monsters from "A Promise Is A Promise" lurking beneath me, but I try not to think about that.

I have to share my place with a bunch of people who just. Don't. Get it. Or maybe I just don't want them to get it, because I want my place to stay mine. But I guess sharing wouldn't be so bad, if they promised to really appreciate it, and not just sit on the beach with a book or a bunch of screaming children, not seeing what's right in front of them.