Before my friends ask me, no, this isn’t about an actual stranger on a train, so.
Man, it’s become a running joke now, hasn’t it. Granted, it’s a joke that I started, but it’s frustrating to respond to every inquiry about my “personal life” with a prolonged sigh and a sardonic “What personal life?”
True true, I’m working and I’m glad for the work, but sometimes, especially when I wake up on the bus right before it turns into my stop, I can feel the worm of a doubt start burrowing into my head:
“I don’t wanna see you go…”
If I’m going to be honest, this is much, much better than any future I saw for myself, at this age, given where I started when I first got to college. But that doesn’t make it easier when my friend looks at me and asks about, well, me, in a pointed way, and I have no real answer except the bullshit one I give myself, which is “Oh, you know, I just don’t have any time for that.” Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit. If there is time for anything, there’s time for that, but not the way in which I want it.
If anyone’s still following me here, sorry about all the metaphorical twists and turns. I don’t like to say anything the way it should be said, which is to say that I don’t like to say anything at all. Not all things. Just this thing.
I think this is one of those entries that I need to write for myself. Hang in there, me. I know where I’m going.
Except I don’t. Just because I want to black out every mirror I see doesn’t make it any easier to know that my reflection exists, and just because I don’t want to pursue this… thing doesn’t mean that the temptation to do so, to believe in something other than my own excitable, fallible self, isn’t out there.
But if this is, like every other time before it, a hallucination of my own making…
if I’m a dog leaping after a ball that I threw myself…
then I don’t even have a lie to keep me warm at night.
It’s not quite midnight yet, but for the past couple of nights, the sundown quiet’s been littered with sudden rocket songs. Stranger, won’t you sit and listen with me.