At the beginning of July, I ran away for three days. At 17, I’d graduated high school a year early and couldn’t stand the obsessive, authoritarian parenting style my parents continued to use. I barely had any money to my name, but I intended to barter my time in exchange for food and places to sleep. This is the story of that experience.

I’d planned to run away for years. When I was in fifth grade, I remember wanting to run away, but afraid of the consequences of abandoning school. My parents convinced me to stay. Over the next few years, I kept planning to run away—and kept putting off my plans for one reason or another.

Earlier this year, I packed up my bags to run away and my parents stole my bags. (They have a history of stealing my things.) However, after I graduated from high school, there was nothing to be afraid of. I could seriously leave home and begin life on my own.

There were two slight complications; I still had a job at a grocery store, and I was taking summer classes online at my local community college. I thought I could handle it. I planned for weeks to run away, because I thought that running away would allow me to achieve my goals in life much faster.

Although I knew what I wanted, I had a long conversation with my parents about it first. I couldn’t help it; even though I knew that every argument for staying home had been exhausted, I felt compelled to try to make peace with them. This time, I didn’t let them talk me out of it. I had recently purchased a bicycle, and I had some minor camping supplies (a tarp, a blanket, and a poncho.) As I walked out of the house, my dad handed me some cash to use in case of an emergency. He’d resigned himself to the conclusion that even if he stopped me, I’d try again the next day until I had my way. He was right.

I rode my bicycle two miles to a nearby church, and camped out the first night as far away from everything as possible. It took several hours to fall asleep. I thought I heard voices, but as far as I know, nobody ever discovered me. It started to rain, and I wrapped the tarp around me while my bike got soaked. I was actually cold, despite having the blanket. The feeling of being free helped me through the night.

I woke up the next morning before 5 a.m., which means I only got about three hours of sleep. I got up and rode my bike about 10 miles to my girlfriend’s apartment. I felt refreshed and free. I was carrying too much weight, though, so my back started to hurt. I made this video while on my way:

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At my girlfriend’s house, I discovered that she had been sick for the past few days. We ate breakfast together and she asked me, “Are we just friends, or are we still dating?” I took this as a sign that she was either no longer interested in me or had found someone better. I told her that I wanted to continue dating, but I mentally prepared myself for the breakup (which occurred about two weeks later.)

It was poor timing, but I felt like I could deal with it. “I’ve ruined your day, haven’t I?” she asked me. “Nope!” I said, smiling, but it hadn’t totally sunken in.

From there, I rode a few more miles to my community college. I wanted to check out a locker, but it was the weekend and no one was there to do it. My back was hurting from the two bags I was carrying, which included college books and work clothes.

I went to one of the buildings and set up at a table to work. I created a plan to make money by creating websites for businesses in the area. In addition to providing money for food, it would also give me social experience, walking into businesses like a salesperson and trying to sell them my service.

I got tired and took a nap in the chair. An hour later, my friend Justin called and asked if I wanted to carpool to an improv show in Bonner Springs. He was less keen when I told him that I was at JCCC. I told him I’d meet him there.

The 15-mile trip to Bonner Springs used up my reserve energy. I had to stop and buy a water bottle, and I realized I was running out of money. I didn’t know if I had enough to buy food until I got my next paycheck. My optimism started to fade.

I missed the 7pm improv show, and barely made it back in time for the 9pm show that I was supposed to perform in. I was dripping in sweat and didn’t even realize that I forgot to dress up. Our group, called Red Rubber Ball, did it’s first show that night. We did fairly well.

After the show, I was exhausted. I rode down one dark road and looked for places to camp where I wouldn’t be disturbed. I stopped twice, but each stop ended up being to close to houses or buildings for comfort. I ended up sleeping about 10 feet down the hill where the road turned into a bridge. It was slightly easier to fall asleep this time. I woke up the next morning at 5 a.m. again, feeling tired.

I had work from 10 a.m. to 3 p.m. Having nothing better to do, I rode to the grocery store. I recorded my final video note, which you can see here:

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I felt empty somehow. It wasn’t necessarily a bad feeling; I felt calm, but alone.

After work, I planned to ride my bicycle to the local library where I could work on the computer. I was too tired to do it. I decided to make a quick stop at home.

The stop became a stay, and the next day I realized that I didn’t have it in me to keep going. I adjusted one again to the regular routine of living at home, and my parents returned to their authoritarian ways. It was a regretful end to the adventure.