My Twist on the famous Chris McCandless Story

June 6, 2013
By H-Nasty BRONZE, Pasco, Washington
H-Nasty BRONZE, Pasco, Washington
3 articles 0 photos 0 comments

I stand here, in a spot where the grass and sidewalk meet, with the tree behind me giving me shade in this eighty-five degree weather. I stand here, wearing nothing but old ripped-up jeans and a tie-dye t-shirt. I stand here with no shoes, and my hair is up in a ponytail, so the wind won’t bother me while I smoke the last of my cigarette.
As I stand here, I begin to look at the beauty of this world and the people it possesses; I start to wonder why I was put here, in the dimension. Why was I chosen to try to outlast this world. This once beautiful world; now polluted and dying. The ungrateful people it inhabits; so hurt and lost. Not even knowing who they are, or what they stand for.
As I take one last drag of the cigarette, I let the nicotine coat its sweet black tar syrup into my lungs and slowly exhale the bittersweet smoke.
As I stand here, I wonder what went wrong. What started the beginning of the ending of this world. This Hell. What made us, as humans, become numb to the savages, we, as people, call “humans.” I can’t help but wonder what is wrong with the world. With the people. With this society, we, as people, have chosen to live in.
As I stand here ashamed and utterly embarrassed of what we have become, I think of how this world was once beautiful. How this world is mad. How I see humans, but no little shred of humanity.
As I stand here I wish I wasn’t standing and I wish I wasn’t here at all.
But yet, I put out my cigarette and I walk away from the shade. I walk away from the beauty. I walk away from the peaceful quiet whispers the world has to say. I walk back into horrors, back into the hatred. Back into the place I call “home.” I decide this isn’t where I want to be. I don’t want to see the damage we have caused on each other; on this world. I don’t want to hurt anymore.
So, as I stop and turn around, I can’t deny the feeling of relief excavate from my pores. As I walk, my back facing the society that is suicidal, I start to feel the glories of being free. Truly free. I don’t where my life is headed to now, I don’t know how long I will survive, and I don’t know where this word will take me, but I am not scared.
Because this feeling of freedom is the happiest thing I could ever feel.

Similar Articles


This article has 0 comments.


MacMillan Books

Aspiring Writer? Take Our Online Course!