Walking the hell away

I’ve found myself posing a self-directed question, lately, with increasing frequency and intensifying levels of earnestness. And now, I pose it to you.

Are you ready to walk away?

From it. From everything. Are you ready?

Can we ask ourselves this question and answer honestly. Actually, can we ask this question honestly??

Are you prepared to walk away? Walk away, you know, as in turning your back on the ruthless demands of modern life and its vain reproaches? We ingratiate ourselves with our existence. We are mundane and predictable. We’ve cast our fire to the fountain of death. We are shells succumbing to the rigor of monotony.

We overlap with other existences and we all share this mundane half-heartedness in union. We bolster each other’s shells of illusory existence. We feed to the monotony of shared lives and our ritual becomes a ritual of community, of this society. We tether ourselves with expectations on the part of others and of ourselves.

Can you walk away?

From expectation?
Can you flap the wings that will carry you from this madding crowd? Are you bold enough to disappoint and relinquish?

Walking away denotes that loose ends are not a concern. Walking away means that.

One morning, you rise, wash your face, take a piss, zip your jacket, tie your shoelaces, and amble out the door. You close the door surely behind you, but really, it’s not important. Your may leave it ajar if you like. Leave it wide open for all I care. Let the world wonder why anyone would leave their front door wide open for their domestic bowels to be visible to the outside world. It is so unlike civilized man to do this. They will never guess it is because someone walked away. That someone eschewed civilized wants and needs which cohabitated with a distasteful admixture of responsibility and duty. They will not realize this was not a case of forgetfulness or dereliction. It simply was not an issue of contention for this Walker who overlooked the popularly ingrained template of importance it was used to arousing in the masses. They will not realize that someone walked away.

Walking away means leaving behind the petty pretensions.
Don’t carry that garbage with you because the minute you walk away, you walk empty-handed.
Your soul and your arms are empty.
You carry nothing, for you have nothing. There is an element of rebuke in walking away. A vilification of all that is normal and calmly decent. Walking away is like saying Fuck You to the globasphere.

But it is a commitment, and unlike marriage, backing out of this commitment is difficult and barbed. It will result in great embarrassment and painful legacies. As they say, there is no turning back, not from walking away.

It is the final refutation of all that you were molded to accept and place your last ounce of blind faith in.
Walking away is to bid farewell to the Dream. Without it, what good is life? Isn’t this life just a very long series of meaningless narratives otherwise?

When you walk away, there is no narrative. The storyteller ceases to follow the one who walks away. Never is a man so alone as when he shrugs the weight of the world off his shoulders.

You may have begun walking away. For you didn’t walk away. Perhaps you sneaked away. You kept one foot planted firmly in this world and lead everyone to believe the other was nearby waiting to join, but in reality, the other was merely leading the way out.

And when you walk away, the absence left behind is tinged with artificial illusion befitting another dastardly modern life.