Hometown

I know the town that I live in far too well. You could blindfold me, take me to any spot and I would know exactly where you had placed me. That’s the advantage of living in the same place all my life, I have never found myself getting lost. I have walked countless times past shops in the town centre that change over and over again until they are left without an owner or identity. Clothes shop, to café, to Burger King to betting shop, to nothing at all with newspapers plastered against the windows.

The council seems to forget about the very town it runs, neglecting it like a parent would a child that was never really wanted – a burden of a place. They do the bare minimum, enough to keep it running but there is no love or care for what it might grow up to be.

Some cars pass by quickly, splashing water on me from the fresh puddles on the uneven roads. You could drown in the potholes. Some cars are stuck at the temporary traffic lights that have been put up for maintenance work that never seems to get done. They’ve been promising to open the road again since may but its two Januarys later. Fumes from hard working exhaust pipes mix with the smell of fatty sausage rolls from Greggs, a heavy smell that adds to my headache brought on by the stress and constant alertness needed of a girl walking alone.

Here I could never get lost – I know this place better than I know the lines on my palms.

There has been times though, frequently where I think I would like to get lost. I would like to find a new place, a new town, a new city, a new world. I want to hear new sounds, smell new scents and see new sights, old to others but new to me. I want to find somewhere, where just for a moment I can be completely and utterly lost. My town will always be here to come back to.