Homecoming

The town creeps up on me like a slow storm, a monochromatic void where people exist with the burdens gifted them by chance. Where dreams come to die...

...Welcome home!

I see Tracey, who despite being married to Darren still lives with her ex because of the kids; who call Darren Granddad by the way. Tracey shovels chips at the local takeaway, but her real passion lies in writing erotic novels about desperately lonely woman.

Fall down a well.

Next door a collective of chavs, here known as a 'benefit', oozes out from an anonymous grey building, all fresh off the production line of cliche. You can actually see devolution as each copy of a
copy of a copy gets further stripped of individuality.

I'm no different of course, although realising I'm no different instantly makes me so. It's ok to be the first person to do something for a second time, but there's such disappointment in constant duplication.

Moving away from this place was hard, really hard. My routine was a tether preventing me from falling, so why take it away? Because each time I return to this place I feel myself drained of all creative thought, as if I've been prescribed the wrong medication. I see how easily this tether could become a noose.Because I needed to know I was good enough without it, that taking risks didn't necessarily mean plummeting to my death. I'm not stupid, I've substituted for a safety net formed by those I care for, those willing to catch me should I falter.

My family home is different: it's like a plant you see growing up through the pavement, a patch of life in a concrete desert. But I could never come back to this place, it feels too much like a step backwards.

As I arrive back at the place I now call home I finally catch my breath as I'm greeted by one of those people I mentioned earlier, his smile like the sun appearing from behind a cloud...