In no small part is my desire to travel the world based solely on the desperate hope that the ignorance and arrogance that I am subjected to here in my own country is somehow lessened or, at the very least, different enough to call a stranger while abroad. I think I know this in my heart of hearts to be untrue but... one can hope.
Here, I worry that the only perspective I have is the one I'm surrounded by; that my field of vision is only as narrow as the tunnel vision suggests it is. Can seeing the world change this? Or will it simply reinforce what I already fear? That is the unknown of this journey which excites and terrifies. Because if seeing the world only serves to reinforce what I already fear, that this country I call home is teetering on the verge of swallowing itself in its own self-importance, then how sad a place to come back to. How sad will it be to return to a place that's dying in its own blinded cacophony? How much of the dying beast must I endure the weight of simply because I love it so?
Is it such a shameful thing to have hope? I don't think so... but the man on the street says otherwise. He says it's all coming down and there is no answer and has accepted the fatalism of this dying ideal and has chosen to watch youtube videos all day instead.
I can't trust him. And neither can you.
I know I can't be the only one who feels like they're the only one who feels this way.
No comments:
Post a Comment