I too, had a dream

In that dream, I was somebody else.
My whole life behind me was nothing more than a memory. A shadow. Something that shaped me, but would never find me again.
I always believed people could change. I thought that was real. I thought you could really change who you are.
Maybe you can. Maybe if you try hard enough.
But I've been brainwashed.
I can't do anything more than try to progress myself.
I can't enjoy the time I'm having right now, because money is so tight.
I thought my dream was to move to the mountains. I thought that out here I would make so many good friends. I thought I could be someone else. I thought I could sleep around and never have it bite me in the ass.
Oh right. This is a small town. Wow. that wasn't thought out very well.
Every time I do something. Every time I show my face, someone sees. Someone is always watching me, because, let's face it, that's all there is to do.
I think I've realized that there's nothing left for me here.
Maybe that's the stress talking. Maybe I'm just down on myself.
But when you get in a car accident and it royally FUCKS you over, and you're out of work, what do you think?
What the fuck am I supposed to think?
I have a chance here to start over.
I can collect the insurance money and live without a car for a while.
I know I can, but then I lose my second job.
I love delivering pizzas. But in order to do that, I HAVE to buy a car. I need to dish out money again, and hope to the sweet God above that it runs properly. I have to fist-fight my insurance company to get the money for my car. I've been fighting all month. I have nothing to show. I'm tired. I'm weary.
I've been playing video games for hours and hours on end. Because if I don't do that, I drink.
I'm drinking my money away. I'm drinking my chances of pulling out of this away.
So I'm inside all day.
I spend $700 a month so I can set up my computer in a mediocre condo room and play video games.
No, this is not my dream. This was never my dream.
So come November, do I stay, or do I try to start over again?
I could move to the city. It's only an hour away. I have friends there. I have family.
There's opportunity. There's a second chance.
So why don't I take it?
Maybe it's time to go again. Maybe, for the 6th time in 2 years, it's time to pack up and move out.
I won't be far away though. I can always come back.
But this place isn't for me.
This place was for the me I wanted to be.
Not the me that I really am.