Alexander’s Alaska

My name is Alexander. I don’t go by Alex because it doubles as a female’s name and that bothers me.

I am 24 years old, but I feel a lot older. I’ve been alone for a long while and I don’t see that changing any time soon.

I got out of high school and didn’t know where my place in society was. I didn’t belong anywhere within the traditional realm of life. I didn’t want to join the military because I didn’t care to fight in the name of a government. I didn’t go to college because I didn’t know what to pursue and the price of school is way more than what a degree is actually worth. I didn’t want get a job because I thought that there is more to life than slaving at a nine-to-five job just to barely pay the bills. 

So I left.

I went off the grid.

I gathered every penny I had saved, bought a plane ticket, and moved to Alaska. I bought ten acres of land south of the Yukon River and started a new life. When I first got there, all I did was cut down trees. I cut for days. I had a tarp tied to a tree that I slept under, and when the sun rose in the mornings I had already been up for a few hours. I got to Alaska in late July, so it was still in the mid-70s during the day time.

I had a small cottage built by the time the temperatures got too low to sleep under my tarp. It took a lot of work and was lonesome to do solo, but it is something that I still feel immense pride in accomplishing. 

I’ve been here just over a year, and I’ve basically got life in the wilderness put on a daily schedule. The routine is monotonous, but there are always things that must be done.

Now I sit here with this pen in my hand knowing that no one will ever read my writing. It takes a great deal of effort to swallow the loneliness that I feel on my worst days, but most of the time I interact with Mother Nature and spend time appreciating our great earth.

I wish I had someone to share this land with. Someone to talk to. Someone to feel something for. Instead of wallowing in my own stubbornness and insecurity, I cut trees, hunt, and fetch water so that I don’t have to acknowledge just how lonely I am. My soul isn’t fulfilled and it makes me wonder if I messed up somewhere down the road. I never imagined I’d yearn for a life partner, but the singing birds and crunching leaves under my feet no longer sound as comforting as they once did.

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