I wanna leave the south…
The south has charm, but that’s all it is…charm. Charm is a front, a deception. I hate it. I loathe it. It forces me to love it, to adore it and then it goes for another, it cheats on me. Charm has affairs…I don’t want to be the one waiting with the lights on knowing no one is coming home to me. I don’t want any material love. I want a home love. One that welcomes me because it loves my spirit, my personality…my freedom. I want it to want me to be free and I want it to long to be free with me. The south is all charm for me. There is no love, only a perverse want of possession. I don’t feel anything for a possessive spirit. It scares me. I hate the fear of it. I don’t want to be property. I want to be a stray dog…I don’t want to be wanted ‘cause I can’t be caught like the butterfly, I don’t want to be had like the show horse that is wanted only because it is wanted by others…I want to be the stray dog that needs and is attended to by love and decency. I wouldn’t be demanded to stay or even expected to, I would just be wanted to for the only reason of being loved. The south treats me like the butterfly, the show horse; it obsesses over me in a desperate way. It’s unhealthy, it’s scary, and it’s lonely. I’m expected to have the southern obsession for material things, for material love, by southern society.
In all this I am being a rather bigot child, for the whole world expects you to have this obsession, yet the whole world, unlike the south, does not hide behind charm, deceit, fancy love letters…it gives it to you straight. It tells you the honest truth of what it wants of you. I’d rather be told the truth tied, bleeding to the rotting flesh of an animal than “charmed” with all the manners in the world.
