Crossing Borders


June 16, 2019

Leaving Vancouver early in the morning I had the chance to go see two or three spots I did not have the chance to visit yesterday. I left downtown and went to a place called Sea to Sky Gondola, but of course I haven’t really used the attraction. All these people-filled places are a no-no, also it opened at 9AM or so and I was there at 6ish. Win. I just wanted to hike a little and be within nature before heading back to the US of A. At the end of a trail I found this amazing waterfall where I spent some time thinking of the last few days I spent on the road: I was… pensive. I chuckle remembering when I used this adjective once, and my boss at the time, a captain for the US Air Force, smiled at me congratulating the way I could choose the right word every time. Meh. I like words, but I don’t spend much time using the right ones when I talk. I guess. I don’t know. Stooopid reminiscences.

I had to see it by how the day started that something was in the air: the radio was bothering me, songs were not fitting the mood, so I decided to plug in my iPod instead. Bad idea. Very bad idea. Or maybe not actually, I needed it in that moment, I have to stop complaining. Fair enough. The road back to the US was long but easy today, architecturally speaking. No massive u-turns, mountain steep roads, or whatever you want to call it, just a long drive that allowed me to set the car on cruise mode most of the time, and think. Like always. Or more. Maybe more. Definitely more. I think that, if I had a few more hours in front of me, I could have easily gone back to my very first thoughts while still inside my mother’s womb for how far I stretched my mind. Being exhausted both physically and mentally does not really help in similar cases, I guess.

A whole whirlwind of thoughts started uncovering those parts of my reason I thought were settled by now. Never underestimate the power of nature and the consequences it brings on us poor stupid mortals. Experiencing the beauties around me non-stop affected my senses in such a way, that even the most futile scene would make me tear up a little. I texted a friend after being overwhelmed by the power those waterfalls infused in me, saying that this life and being alive is so freaking painful. It is so damn frustrating to know we all have to die and leave this world. The treasure of this planet basically leaves you speechless every time you see it for what it originally is (humans excluded. As machines we’re perfectly done, but as animals with a sort of personality, most of us suck! Eh. I had to say it). Above all, my heart cracked open when, in tears, I apologized to nature herself, for spending the majority of my life wanting to die. It still happens at times, but since the day I decided that the world is worth seeing, suicidal thoughts are not a constant element in my equation. (Goddamn I dropped the bomb. Eh, raw and real, take it or leave it!). I still have my down moments, yes, but I am really trying to keep those thoughts as far away from me as possible, because I saw what I am capable of, and the moment I reached out for help I knew I was doing the right thing. Although “help” did not help eventually (long story short: bureaucracy and lack of proper insurance are a bad combination), what really changed my brain, I believe, was when I have decided to leave for this adventure. It felt like turning on the light in a pitch black room, I could almost hear the click of the switch when I thought: fuck this pseudo therapy (which is not helping, like I said), fuck people not seeing my worth, fuck me in the first place, for not trying harder, for wanting to give up, for missing out on nature and animals, fuck everything and everyone really, I’m off. To the world. For more than 30 years I struggled, not knowing where I belong, for feeling like an outsider everywhere I went, for feeling different. I got it now: I not only belong to Planet Earth. I belong to the Universe. End of discussion. We all do. It’s just that most of you wanted to find a smaller place where you can feel comfortable. I don’t. A place with coordinates dictated by prerogatives and canons created by men for men are not for me. Thanks, I’ll pass. I already have to succumb to most of your societal rules, so …now “anche basta!” (reads: un-keh bus-tah > lit. enough already! – for the pleasure of my Italian readers, ELLE-OH-ELLE ). We have the infinite ahead and all around us, why settle for less?

While the music was playing I kept on having epiphanies that set me up for an emotional overload, eventually leading to a blend of screams, tears, and hysterical laughs, all-together-holding-hands. Sigur Rós’s Sæglópur played right before Breathe by the Prodigy, and I laughed, so hard. The crystal clear representation of who I am: a loving, soft, sweet song with crescendos and peaceful innuendos, as well as a –quoting the song– psychosomatic, addict, insane electronic sound based melting pot of words, screaming out loud for pain and frustration. Makes total sense. Well, at least to me. I should have known better, and realized that taking me to a road trip like this, solo me, myself, my fears, my strengths, altogethershinyhappypeople holdinghands, would actually be like taking my full spectrum of emotions to Six Flags for a deadly rollercoaster ride. 100 points, Laura. You win. Not really, but still. Here I am. I heard the voice in my head going: remember when the Linkin Park were singing “freedom can be frightening if you’ve never felt it”? Yes. Yes, indeed. Freedom is amazing, and it is addicting. So much so that why would you even go back to where you started now that you tasted it? Why would you want to leave this place called Earth when you started receiving blessings coming from nature and all? Can someone please explain to me how you deal with having all this taken from you? Asking once again for a friend. It’s like the post-concert depression that hits you right in the face, do you know why? Because your soul needs it, it constantly longs for sound, music, art, freedom, good vibes, joy and enjoyment, all of it, you name it, but once it’s taken from you, from your soul, you shut down. Your offended soul is saying: fuck you, take me back to that place or I’ll make you live in misery. Said and done. It -your soul, wins. So now you tell me, how am I supposed to go back to …nothing? How?

Therefore I cried, and I laughed. I sang, and I danced. But I was free. Free to do, to think, to say whatever the heck I wanted. We should add “Driving meditation” to the list of possible meditations one can have: shower meditation, transcendental meditation, and driving meditation. Until you reach the border. No meditation there. Although they would totally benefit from it. Because, you see, you forgot your passport in the trunk so you get off the car, open it, find your backpack, take out the documents, get back in the car, move forward a little, and Baam! The officer slams you with stupid questions and typical “border attitude”. Strict and serious (too much for the way I like it), she let me back in the US, warning me for future reference: never get out of the car. Never move or do something different than what requested by the officer. Answer questions without sarcasm (these people really can’t handle sarcasm uh?) or next time you’ll be “gunned down“. Quoting literally. Welcome back to the US, I guess. Come find me, bitches.

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