Semantic Distance

my brother said he didn’t become a person until he was 16. everything else prior was a blur or forgotten outright. how could he ever remember me as a child? or the apartment by lindsay park? or the walk from humboldt to graham? i swear i was there. i don’t say i’m from The South but my personality crystallized in the repeatable suburbs of florida. my friends drove me everywhere. i survived without a license by unapologetically imposing my presence on my peers to get a ride home. i was always a passenger lending an ear. i remember the muted teal pacifica with the peeling leather seats that sucked in the humid heat, a victim to my neurotic inspection on the way back, somewhere. i befriended the viscosity the florida heat bestowed upon me. i was always dewey with sweat. it never bothered me, really. the landmarks we considered holy were parking lots, stoplights, and boba shops within shopping centers. it’s trite but obvious but true! the backdrops to arguments were mundane. i look out to no skyline or bustling street. it’s a cul-de-sac i’ve walked 100 times. the prospect of leaving was more enticing than our daily lives. i can’t wait to go. my life will start once i leave this place. why would i ever come back here? i feel trapped; a prolonged prison sentence despite good behavior. when will i be released? the streets have not changed. the routes i organized in my mind still run the same. time has not moved. middle class hell indeed. no wonder no one ever wanted to stay. was i even supposed to be there in the first place? i became a person there.