DETROIT

​August 11th, 2026

I had a crazy idea just recently (as in, fifteen minutes ago). Labor Day’s right around the corner, I could go on a little weekend trip. 

For some reason, Detroit is piquing my curiosity. Seems cold. Cold, but small enough that I wouldn’t feel as lonely as I feel now. Live-able, financially once I pay off 90% of my debts. I said this current chapter was a roughly two year venture for me, I believe that to be true. The next twenty four months, I’ll keep going as I am currently. 

I think I’m ready for a different pace of life, though. I keep saying this, but I truly mean it, I think. My life in NY and I guess the East Coast as a whole has been as deep as can be internally, and yet none of that translates outwards. The connections haven’t felt very deep at all. I just feel very sad, and very uninspired. How much longer do you hold out? I’ve held out for 15 years? At what point do you draw a white flag? I’m just about ready to post mine. 

I’m questioning what kind of life would feel, taste, and smell sweet to me: 

• Close knit social circle - the kind of place where I could be friends with my neighbors. 
• Affordable cost of living - less than 50% of my earnings going towards rent, food, necessities.
• Slower pace of life - more time to dwell in things I can appreciate.
• A real relationship (for once) - that I am not overfunctioning to make work - or fleeing from. 
• A clean, nice, walkable place that doesn't feel like a cortisol cocktail was thrown at me when I walk outside.
• Somewhere people trust one another. 

I think I want to live in a place that would miss me if I were gone. I don't think I've ever felt that way before. So far, I've dreamt of leaving every place I've settled in, because it just felt like that house. Cold, and dark, and weird, and lonely. I'd go room to room, trying to figure out how the hell to get out, only to gvie up night in and night out, because I was barricaded in. At some point, I think I started imagining that someone important was coming to pick me up, and so I kept my bags packed for when they finally showed up, and the front doors swung open violently to let me out. I used to imagine that I would run through them like I was being chased, that I would run into that car, slam the door behind me, and never look back. That I could find a way to forget all of those years I spent inside that house, all alone. So far, those doors haven't opened, and I haven't heard any car engines outside. I do not think anyone is coming to pick me up. 

Do I just suffocate in this empty house? Or do I keep trying to find a door or window that'll ifnally let me out, since it seems no one will be picking me up after all. 

Maybe I'll book myself that flight to Detroit after all, if there's an opening there, perhaps I'll find a way to take it. I'm on the cusp of twnety-five, and I'm tired of being alone in this cold, dark house. 

- vetiveroil