Here’s How to Disappear

Here’s how to pack your things into bags and throw them in your car and completely disappear for no real reason at all.

Here’s how to tell your family where you’re going and why and assure them that it’s not a cult and try to articulate something meaningful about your current mental state you can barely explain to yourself.

Here’s how to kiss your girlfriend goodbye and cope with the feeling that you’re deserting her, stranded in metropolis, and that you’re selfish for leaving for so long on such short notice. 

Here’s how to drive all day long and not turn around. 

Here’s how to decide that your 1999 Honda Accord can’t make it through the increasingly violent snowstorm which has suddenly materialized around you, many miles from the nearest exit, deep in the middle of Nowhere, Eastern Oregon, and go into panic mode and turn onto “Old State Highway,” putting a metric fuck ton of trust in Apple Maps, finding Old State Highway to be horribly paved and narrow and treacherous as the snowstorm fills the entire vision of your windshield and you can’t tell if this is a one-way road or not and you can’t see the edges and you think there’s no guard rail so if you fuck up you just go down but honestly you'd rather die than stop your car here and get buried in snow and dug out by some fat cop on his Tuesday night shift, so you trust yourself and keep driving. 

And here’s how to make it to a gas station and buy a scratch off ticket to celebrate your survival and soberly check into a motel and call it a night.