A Hard Choice, and a Flicker of Hope

A Hard Choice, and a Flicker of Hope

It’s been almost a year since I came back to Pocatello, and honestly, things have only gotten worse. Mentally, spiritually, physically—I feel like I’m deteriorating in every way. Friends? I have almost none. The people I might call acquaintances, I barely see. And a lot of this I’ve already said before.

I’ve been dreaming about the idea of hitting the road—12 cities, 12 months, either in a car or a bull trailer. Freedom, movement, the chance to do something. But the reality is hard. The costs are high, the logistics are messy, and honestly, my resources are too low to make that happen responsibly. Asking anyone else to help with it feels impossible right now.

And so I keep coming back to a single, terrifying thought: what if I just leave? What if I ask my parents for one simple thing—buy me a bus ticket somewhere unknown, watch my dog for a while—and then I just go? Just show up in a city with a couple of bags, almost no money, no plan, and no guaranteed roof over my head.

It’s scary as hell. Absolutely petrifying. But here’s the truth: somehow, that thought gives me more hope than staying here. Staying in Pocatello has only felt like suffocation, like my life is being quietly stripped away. The idea of stepping into the unknown, even with nothing, even homeless, somehow feels freer. It feels like possibility.

I don’t know exactly where I’d go. I don’t know what I’d do when I get there. But there’s a flicker of life in imagining that I might have a chance. The chaos, the vulnerability, the sheer rawness of it—it feels more alive than any security here. More hopeful.

So maybe that’s the path I need to take: risk everything, leave almost everything behind, and see if the world has something better for me than this. Because right now, anything—even fear and uncertainty—feels better than this stagnation.

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