greener pastures

this is where i live.
this is what i got. this part. right here.
everyone's yards are just a part of the same field before the houses are built,
but now i guess i have grass to cut.
there used to be a lot more space here.
it was open, you know. spacious? airy.
what really drew me in was the view,
but that was years ago, before all
this.
that view used to seem endless from the roof of my house.
well, one of my houses.
not that i have more than one, no, but -
i have had more than one...
i just keep tearing them down.
see, when i first got here,
nobody had built anything yet.
and that was fine. we were young.
but then when we started i just kinda
threw together anything i could to
get the house up quick, you know,
i never had the patience for planning.
bricks? uh, yeah, just
put 'em over there.
yep, got wood down, good enough,
throw those two walls up, great,
cardboard? yeah, fuck it, good enough,
lego, whatever.
just get it done.
i just wanna stand on top of my house and look at the view.
people were always so impressed
with how quickly i could build my house.
but when they started looking over my fences,
i guess i just wanted to impress.
so i tore that one down.
threw up another, this time with white siding -
didn't matter that the inside was bare,
it only had to look good from the outside
and keep me standing on the roof.
but i'd get bored, you know,
tear everything down again, build it back up,
i always seemed to be ahead of  the game,
best in the neighborhood.
and i got to watch the sunset from whatever house i had that week
and watch the dark wash over everyone's yards
until they were just the same field again.
and all that was lit up was that horizon.
god, beyond that horizon could be anything,
i just wanted to keep watching it forever,
thinking of every possible landscape
just waiting for me beyond that line.
but i spent so many nights up there
that by the time i saw the sun again
it was through the space of my neighbor's houses.
and i don't know when it happened,
but i blinked, and suddenly i wasn't
the star of the place, i was
just another house.
so i tore down, started again.
and again, and again, and again,
but see, while i'd been content to be ahead so i could
wonder what would happen next,
standing on the top of whatever wobbly structure
i'd thrown up just to look like i was fine,
whatever, it didn't matter that the inside was bare.
but it seemed like i blinked,
and everyone caught up.
it seemed like i blinked, and i
woke up from dreams of what that green field could be,
what it could become just beyond my view,
all that potential -
and while i wasn't looking,
my neighbors finished their houses.
the ones they'd taken all that time to build,
done it right, fuck lego.
just the one - for each of them - just the one.
solid and sturdy and full of life and
"oh," i realized. "homes."
they built homes.
and i was building empty houses like some
makeshift stepping stool,
fixated by a view i thought was mine until the skyline hit,
and i didn't want to share.
it was all i had.
and somehow, those nights on the roof
made me believe i could reach the horizon someday.
but i don't see the sunsets anymore.
i am small and cold and lonely and scared
and not good enough anymore
and everyone else has done all these things
that i don't know how to do
because i never had the patience for planning,
and i never even thought of
home.
i am this empty, haphazard shack of a human being.
because i spent all that time admiring
my potential.
i haven't cut my grass in years,
holy fuck, what are bills?
how am i supposed to live like this?
everything seemed so green and good
when this was all just a field and
how could i let this happen,
let this time pass,
why was i asleep while others were building?
why did i think fooling people with an empty shell was good enough?
god, if i could just go back,
maybe i could do things right,
but GOD, the view.
when the field was dark,
and the horizon was mine.
maybe i should just move out.