The Long Road Home, pt. 1

He looked down upon that long winding road, knowing where it would lead, but still excited about the way he’d get there. Possibilities seemed so infinite, and yet, time was running out. He couldn’t any longer tolerate the complacence of common life, he needed something more; danger, passion, love, hate. He wanted it all.
There were no good-byes. In fact, there were no greetings either, not even names, only faces. The faces of all shapes and sizes, some beautiful and some ugly, some quite enchanting. One back alley bar after another, he experienced the world, but a world different from the one 9 to 5ers live in. The world he lived in was one of mysticism and unknown, every road a dream, every dead end a spectacle. And oh how there were dead ends. Everyone met them at some point.
“When will I meet my dead end?” he thought.
He had been driving for days, no sleep necessary thanks to the amphetamines he picked up at a truck stop some time back. His heart rate was jacked, and he could feel sleep pulling at his consciousness’, begging him to give in and close his eyes. He noticed a motel and a bar to the side of the road. He no longer remembered, or cared, where he actually was or where he was going. The destination was obsolete; it is only the journey that matters, for the destination can not ever be measured.
He walked into the hotel. A seedy place; he could smell the past of the joint. Violence, sex, and death were emanating from all corners of the packed in lobby. He noticed an old couple in a chair eating fried chicken; they looked so content. Contentment to him was just a nice word for boredom. He didn’t like this place.
“How long will you be staying?” the bellman said.
“Too long,” he replied, “I guess just for the night.”
He brought his things up to his room, and lay for a bit in the hard cold mattress. He felt he should miss his home at times like this, but he didn’t. Not even her. He was heading to his real home, and what is the illusion of home compared to the real thing? He tried to sleep but the speed was flowing in his blood stream strong, and his heart was so elevated he could see the hairs on his arms sticking up straight. He decided to get some drinks.