I’ve been dancing. Now it’s late, and I’m up, in my room, listening to faint traffic outside my window. I wish I knew where all those people were going. I wonder if they have any idea, or if they’re just spinning their wheels, and then I wonder why they can’t just fly. Wouldn’t it be easier to get up high? Or am I just thinking too much again, not willing just yet to let this day end.
I came home early tonight because I was too low on gas to drive cross-town to a restaurant with friends. I didn’t want to pull into a station at 1:30, climb out of the car and fuel up at a deserted corner, waiting anxiously for the pump to shut off when the tank was full. I was afraid. I think of how I used to be, standing on an El platform at 1:30 in the morning in a bad part of town, confident that nothing would happen to me. I was utterly stupid, but I had no fear. Somewhere along the way between then and now, fear crept in, and I hate it, even if it’s good for me.