Glad to be Nowhere

The town I live in isn’t that small, in fact it’s one of the biggest towns around where I live and when I first moved here there was absolutely nothing around. No buildings, no houses, no schools, just a giant water tank with the towns all appropriate name: NOWHERE.

I’m not kidding you, that’s really my towns name. Nowhere, Arizona.

It’s a nice town, at first I didn’t like it very much. I thought my mother was just using that town as an excuse to drag me out into the middle of the desert and get rid of my body after she had done away with me. I couldn’t blame her, I was being difficult with her all the time. I was angry and depressed and I took out my sufferings on her when I knew she was just trying to help. I feel terrible about it now.

Now though, I am starting to appreciate the city a little more. Sure there’s no giant malls or bowling alleys, but even in a developing town like this one there is one big advantage: It’s. Safe.

I’ve been thinking about it lately, and I had a realization. See, after I got depressed I had all these thoughts about living in New York, or LA, or Egypt, some place more dangerous so if I died, no one would notice. I could make it look like an accident and that would be the end of that.

I was gathering all this in my head the other day and I actually starting LAUGHING.

If I lived in New York City I would’ve flung myself off of the Empire State Building, if I lived in Paris I would’ve bungeed from the Eiffel tower, if I lived in Wisconsin I would’ve let myself drown in the Fox River.

Bottom line: If I lived anywhere else, I would’ve found a simple way to commit suicide.

But I don’t, I live in Nowhere, Arizona where there is nothing but small shops, small restaurants, a hospital, a few schools, and a town library. No tall buildings, none tall enough to throw yourself off of in a suicide attempt. Everything is small and safe and because of this I have kept my suicidal tendencies at bay.

In a way, I’m glad to be Nowhere.