Run Away

When I was very young, perhaps between the ages of five and six, I impulsively attempted to run away from home. The details are vague now, but I remember being angry with a decision my mother had made, and I remember harboring that anger for days. One afternoon I walked in the front door, my mother politely and soothingly asked me to remove my shoes, and I exploded in a squabble of rage and release before running back out the front door and across the neighborhood. I ran deep into the swamp, grabbing a bag of carrots out of a nearby yard on the way. I ran until I came to pond generated by a fresh water spring, and hid myself in the mud until nightfall. Though my impulsive abandoment of my home seemed virtually unmotovated, I was prepared to live the rest of my life in the bog. I had food and fresh water, and a dwelling would be easily constructed out of sticks. The police found me, of course, and took me back to my warm house. A house which, apon entering, was gratefully accepted back. I recieved no repproach from my parents, only a cautious mannor of dealing with me that would extend throughout the rest of my childhood.

RYN- I must confess I’ve only read The Fountainhead and We The Living, though I often read the op-eds from the ARI and I shall be starting Atlas Shrugged soon. As for criticisms, well for now, I’m reading as many different philosophers as I can before I really move into Objectivism as a professional study, though often I go to my uncle (who introduced me) for points of clarification or questions.

There’s something about this entry, that I can’t put my finger upon, but fascinates me, I think it’s in the way you describe the idea of living in this bog with a naive childish (though determined) enthusiasm; this might sound irrational but I almost got the idea that you could live there forever. Mm, it reads like prose, like one of those moral tangents that adds together to build up a

character’s personality. Incidently, whether this tells you anything about me, I remember once telling my parents I was going to run away and hid some way down my street until I was told I could still be seen from a window… so much for that. Grant.

sounds like Euchrid’s escapism in Nick Cave’s book, which I’m currently reading. But what if you’re well into adulthood and you still try to run away, emotionally if not physically??? ~*~Jen

Gabriel, I deleted my other diary, but I’m still around and look forward to your entries. Grant.