Americans are constantly looking for something with this intense, bright naivety about their bodies, this never-ending absorbent self-bastardization. America is constantly finding the most beautiful things in its country and prostituting them for something else in exchange. America is the most beautiful, fucked up place. Its spaciousness leaks into everything, into the culture, the people, and the rest of the world. Its voracious size splits people apart while bringing them together through the roughly sewn seams of “United.” Everyone has an opinion about America. No one really understands what it’s actually like there, though, not even some Americans realize what this country really is. There is a sadness that was grown into the land with the pushing out of its native people, a sadness that will probably never be lost. Those who were born here, and those who came here, both desperately desire to become the most they can be. But these many expectations lead to the slow plucking of fire from that person’s soul, when the sadness of the land begins leaking into them. It leaks, and douses, and no one understands that although America will survive, it will never heal. Although Americans will survive, they will never stop looking for that one thing, for which they don’t even know what they’re looking for, because no one has it. It is lost with the frontier that never was.