This Was A Terrible Idea, Part 2.


Let’s go back in time to a desert town just outside of Los Angeles. I’m a little boy walking out of church with my older brother, Gabe. I tell him that I like his shirt and I ask him what it says. “Leave Lancaster,” he says to me in the way older brothers talk to younger ones. Like mysterious things are obvious. Before that moment, my home town was just that. A home. Sure, there were other places, but this was my place. Where my family was, my friends, my school, my whole universe. But that T-shirt planted an idea in my head that slowly began to germinate. That my town wasn’t a place to call home, but a place to escape from.

The Writer for the Non-Readers.