Bf and I were driving to his place. We were well ahead of schedule and so we stop at a gas station and take a road called Volkswagen Drive. We see the building that’s all white with it’s hundreds of cars in the lot. We pass the TDOT building and then come across a neat little nature park. We pull over and get the dog out. There is a main road with one side being for pedestrians and the other for motor vehicles. We walk down our side and see some paths in the forest area and some signs that point towards “off road” bike trails. Which sounds so fun to me. I’m not for riding a bike in the city, but get me to a park or a trail and I will have a ball. We walk holding hands then dropping them because the dog pulls us to one side or the other. It rained earlier in the day so the humidity is awful. We are both sweating very much and neither of us are dressed for this excursion. I had to wrap my hair up with my sunglasses because I forgot a hair tie. The heat was doing wonders for the Noodle though. It was wearing him out for a good sleep that night. We walk about a mile and half when we are told by a few signs that we have to turn around because only motors were allowed past that point. Which seems silly at the time and we thought about hitching a ride, but we just turned around because the walk was good for everybody. On the way back I started to think about a story we both had read about a hermit that lived in the woods somewhere up north. The hermit lived in the middle of a park very well hidden for ten plus years or so. He would steal food and camping supplies from the nearby town to survive. I was thinking about him and his life. AT one point the hermit is asked a question about himself, what he had learned about himself living all alone for so long. The hermit says he kind of lost himself. There was no, “self” because there was nobody to perform for. Which I find a little bit of a lie because he had a radio and books so he was influenced by culture at least a little bit. He had a personality even if he wasn’t showing to anybody but the trees. He had favorite songs and bands. He had favorite books and he had opinions. His preferences give him a, “self.” The main thing I was thinking of though was, “What was the point?” He had only himself to live for and his only, “work” was to steal. Why didn’t he just roll over during one of those harsh winters and give himself up to the world? At this point the man is just existing and only existing for himself. He’s not contributing to society and he’s not some benevolent forest protector or guide. In fact he’s doing everything in his power to avoid people. When I was about fifteen and depressed, that’s all I wanted to do. I wanted to simply exist without having to actually, “live.” I see how selfish that is now. I feel like the man was being selfish, but then I have pity on him because they diagnosed him with some form of autism. So does that excuse his behavior? His selfish needs and wants? I think the thing that most upsets me is that he stole. He didn’t, “live off the land” like what I feel a true hermit would do. He stayed close to society and leeched. He just avoided company. At times I get so anxious that I want to become a recluse and stay out of the world for a while, but I fight through it because I know if I let it take over I would let myself die. If I were living alone in the woods like that actually afraid of coming across another human being I would die. Or move to the mountains.