>Perhaps someday

>I don't have a single problem with this town or any of the people that are in it. I've spent 9 great years here, built some incredible memories, met some fantastic souls, built and burned my fair share of bridges, and seen all there is to see. I wish I had maybe gotten out more in early middle school and early high school, but hey - water through the dam, right?

I love this place

But I have to leave. I feel like I'm just... here. I know that's partly [ok, mostly] my fault, because I'm supposed to be content and all for a roof over my head, friends and family that care about me, food in my belly, education, a job, etc. and I am! Don't get me wrong, I am extraordinarily grateful for everything that I have that is more than most people in this world. I need to get out though. I've done a lot of growing, and it's time to do some leaving. I think leaving is part of growing, kind of like the final step. I don't even need to leave forever - maybe just leave for a little bit and then return to perhaps open arms an even better man than the one that left.

I want to see the Grand Canyon and I want to drive route 66 and I want to see the Pacific Coast, perhaps ride on the Pacific Coast Highway, and then come back. That's all I'm asking... is that too much? haha.

Oh well. Perhaps someday.

Hamilton Barber

The subject of this page is an introverted writer/musician/lunatic from Chattanooga, TN who dabbles in lexical dexterity, unorthodox thoughts on prosperity, and being overwhelmingly undeserving of the privilege of waking up every day. He hopes that everybody who reads these words takes them to heart and leaps higher than he ever could. He reads, thinks, and speaks too much; he listens, works, and loves too little; and he says “I” entirely too often. The words on these pages are not his: they are the words that were given to him.