unorthodox but personal way I desire to exist

A rift occurred in my late teenage years that altered my brain chemistry forever. When I am at "home" for long I become increasingly more depressed. Any semblance of stability seems to make me go haywire. I believe, I cannot truly relax and instead fixate on every possible thing that could and will disrupt the sanctity. 

I have as a result, grown very tired, yet I can never allow myself to rest. Too many disasters happen in the middle of the night that I must be alert for. I gravitate towards every noise. I cannot sleep without a soothing voice. It is miserable and tiresome, but it is me.

And this town, I can't even begin to dissect the resentment I feel for this evil place and the nightmarish people who live to drain the life from here. My friend has shared the history of my home, something of a huge crux for the Confederacy a hundred years ago. Slave labor and horrific lynchings. The spirit of the white slavers from that time have lingered, and you can feel it. The people have run unchanged. Diverse people from around the world somehow land in this irrelevant place. We think it's cursed.

It goes unspoken that I need to leave so fucking badly. This place has ruined my life and I don't say that lightly at all. All my existence I have been beaten and trained to hate my home. The people have torn my character into pieces and reassembled the fragments into a Frankenstein's Monster-like horror. I have lived for 20 years never learning who I am, never living a childhood. Homelessness and drifting has been a staple before I was even in my double-digits. 

My unfortunate upbringing me has led me to resent the idea of chasing a traditional life. I do not entertain such thinking, it would allow a false sense of hope to brew. I am starting to believe my true destiny lies without a real home, and instead living every second out in the world. What I'm used to. Walking on calloused feet to a new sight every single day, meeting different people and sharing stories along the way. People I would probably never see again, but always remember. It sounds idealistic, but this may need to be the direction I veer my life. I know the cost of leaving, I think of it endlessly. But the idea of my freedom negates any rational judgement within.

The chain I was born under has long rusted and needs to be ripped link from link. The aged grime and dry particles will cackle and hit the ground in a spew as I flee from all of this. It is merely the timing that I am concerned for, finding my window of opportunity and leaping from this prison before the metal cage slams down and hides the sun forever. 

Life will not come to me, so I must run for it. Until then, I slouch in my tiny 4x4 chamber while I come up with a plan.