My Home Alaska: A street man's perspective (1 Viewer)

Joined
Aug 16, 2009
Messages
30
Location
Anchorage, Alaska.
My home Alaska, far away from it all. Mountains as far as the eyes can see, trees in every direction, and snow for those who wish for it. Some migrate north instead of south, to Alaska, where the mind is at peace. An artist might grow exponentially in their talents in such a desolate land. A man of labor could make quite the living, as strong arms are always needed, but to a man on the streets...

The man on the streets sees this all, and revels in it, but he also sees Alaska for what it truly is. It is a place where the mind is trapped and never breaks free, it is where inspiration grows but is swiftly torn down, it is where a man will scream but may never escape his own voice.

It all started with the travel bug for him, when he realized how dire it was for him to leave this god forbidden place. He looked on the maps of other states, seeing how grand the cities were, and how easily accessible other states were. He missed it dearly while reminiscing on living in those areas.

Meeting people in Alaska is a lot different than other places. After a while you get to know everyone, and before long you can't go one place without seeing a familiar face. The man on the street realized this most when longing for companionship in the female variety. He found that no matter where he looked in Alaska, he would find a girl that he had some sort of history with, or she was aware of his history.

He wanted to run away from it all. This depressing shit island as he called it. Segregated from the rest of the world, living in a separate community. The friends were great, but that was what kept him sane. You can try to run from Alaska as a man on the street, but you're kept in once it snows. You're trapped and sick with nowhere to go.

The days become shorter, the mind becomes quickly bothered, and last vestiges of sanity slip slowly through the windows of the soul. Yes, Alaska is a great place, but don't stay for too terribly long.

So the man on the street hacks out his lungs onto white snow as he looks to the sky, hoping for a way to get out of here... because soon his mind will be lost before he can become lost in his dreams.
 
We sell all kinds of other stuff in our Etsy store!

Apples

Lurker
Joined
Nov 10, 2009
Messages
133
Location
Murdaland
Im really liking your writing. Hope you'll be able to get out of there and share stories of your adventures.
 

Similar threads

Users Who Are Viewing This Thread (Users: 0, Guests: 1)

About us

  • Squat the Planet is the world's largest social network for misfit travelers. Join our community of do-it-yourself nomads and learn how to explore the world by any means necessary.

    More Info

Support StP!

Donations go towards paying our monthly server fees, adding new features to the website, and occasionally putting a burrito in Matt's mouth.

Total amount
$115.00
Goal
$100.00

Monthly Goals

  1. Paying the Bills
    $50.00 of $50.00 - reached!
    The first $50 in donations go towards paying our monthly server fees and adding new features to the website. Once this goal is reached, we'll see about feeding Matt that burrito.
  2. Buy Matt a Beer
    $75.00 of $75.00 - reached!
    Now that we have the bills paid for this month, let's give Matt a hearty thank you by buying him a drink for all the hard work he's done for StP. Hopefully his will help keep him from going insane after a long day of squishing website bugs.
  3. Feed Matt a Burrito
    $100.00 of $100.00 - reached!
    Now that the bills are paid and Matt has a beer in his hand, how about showing him your love by rewarding all his hard work with a big fat burrito to put in his mouth. This will keep him alive while programming new features for the website.
  4. Finance the Shopping Cart
    $115.00 of $200.00
    Now that the bills are paid and Matt is fed, perhaps it's time to start planning for those twilight years under the bridge... if only he had that golden shopping cart all the oogles are bragging about these days.