I will chase the sun for the rest of my days. It is the only thing that makes me whole. Wherever it wanders, I will seek it out. I need it.

Wandering the Frontier

Sometimes, when you have a hard journey ahead of you, it's best to keep your head down. There is nothing out there to see, anyway. Hope fades.

I haven't seen the sun for weeks. I miss it. I miss the warmth. I miss the consistency of its path in the sky. It was my direction. It's so easy to get lost when you don't have the sun to guide you. I hope to see it again soon. God, I hope.

Hope. There it is again. Damnit. It mocks me from afar, but I know it is the only thing that keeps me moving. So, I'll keep my head down, and trudge on. My journey seemed so clear when I started. I've found a few things along the way. But, I feel more lost than when I started.

I've gone too far now. I have to keep going. I have to finish this journey. I have to make it to the mountains, where there is water--where there is healing. Maybe I will be able to see the sun from the mountains. Maybe it was hiding behind them all along, just waiting for me. I hope.

The Frontier is Cold without the Sun

I always knew the frontier to be a cold and lonely place. I was reminded of that today. Maybe I had forgotten, or maybe I had ceased to care.

Lately, I have been basking in the sun. I allowed the warmth to penetrate my body and touch my soul. My soul...God, it needed it. It drank it in and licked it up like rain in a desert. But, every sun sets, I suppose.

My mind knows that the sun will rise again soon. The warmth will return as the sun begins to paint it's existence into the sky. But, my heart doesn't care. It hates the night. It doesn't understand that the day turns to night, the night into day. My mind tries to tell my heart that the night isn't eternal. But, sometimes I feel like my heart knows better. It screams out, "We only know the sun will rise again because it always has!"

A sunset is a promise of a sunrise. At least I hope it is. I watched the sun set today, and I wept. The sun left the sky, leaving me cold and alone. My heart cried out, "Don't let it go! Chase the sun until you cannot run anymore, then run a little further!" I told my heart to be still. That is something I regret.

A sunrise is not a guarantee. It is something we take for granted. We only see sunrises when we make it through the cold, lonely night. We have hope to guide us. A hope that the sun will rise again.

But, what if it doesn't?

God, it's so cold.

The Frontier: a Constant Frustration, a Constant Struggle

The frontier is something to be explored, but I don't know if it is a place to live.

The frontier forces us to adapt to our environment, but I don't know if it is always best for us.

The frontier is hard, but I don't know if I should be, too.

Frustrations are common here. The frontier is reality. Whether we like it or not, it is what looms in the distance, it is what surrounds us, and it is what beats us to hell. We are drawn out in to it by a nagging feeling that everything will be better out here, for some reason. It calls to us, and we answer with all of who we are; we answer with our lives. We can explore it, and some can live with it. But, some can't. I hope I can. I think I will.

Whatever drew us out here doesn't matter anymore. It's not important once you get away from everything. Things change. We change. I suppose we have to adapt in some way, if we plan to keep on like we have. I hope I can. I think I will.

Yes, things are hard out here. I know that now. Maybe I always knew it, and I just didn't want to admit it. Things seemed brighter for some reason. They always seem brighter when you want them to be. Maybe I should adapt; maybe I should change. If I am not as hard as the frontier, I will not be a part of it. I must be, or I won't be. To what end, I don't know. I will be hard. I know it.

An Easier Way

Sometimes death sounds a lot easier than life. I'm sure that sounds a little more grim than I intend for it to be. But, when I live, I disappoint people and I find more ways to overextend myself. Maybe the two are related. I'm sure they are, actually. And, it's not as if I am actively seeking out death, but I'm not sure I'm avoiding it either. It's just easier that way. 

It's cold out here on the frontier. I guess I shouldn't have ventured this far north. Spring is coming, they say. I think I can make it. 

A Good Man

No one out on the frontier cares if I am an utter failure or a disappointment. Perhaps that's why I like it out here. Sometimes, civilization seems to be nothing more than a clustering of unobtainable expectations. Some people seem to want you to fail. Other people failing makes them look better--or at least feel better about themselves. Maybe it's the same thing. I'm not sure I care anymore. When I'm out here on the frontier, the only expectations that matter are my own. I'm guided by my own standards.

I'm a good man. A good man, according to me.

A Place to Hide

Call it what you will.

Sometimes I see the frontier as a place to hide more than anything else. We have called it a place of progress; a place to start anew. But, a progression to anything only means you are abandoning something else. When you start anew, your are forsaking another way of life. Maybe that is for the better, and maybe it is not.

If the frontier is no longer a place, it most certainly is a concept. It may not be a place to which we physically escape, but we certainly escape there in some conceptual sense. I know I do. It's easier that way.