There's something about late nights that makes me think. Think about my day, my relationships, my life, my past, my future, the world. For reasons unbeknown to me, these thinking sessions more often lead to sad feelings than they do happy feelings.
So last night, I was doing my late-night-thinking and as usual I was losing my breath. And I don't mean "Wow! That was amazing, it took my breath away!" I mean I was really losing my breath, as in my heart was pounding so hard and fast I couldn't catch my breath, I couldn't breathe. So I grabbed my jacket, said I'm going for a walk, and dashed out the door.
As soon as I stepped onto the sidewalk I started walking really really slow giving lots of time for me to figure myself out. Naturally I thought it had something to do with the songs and poems my old man wrote. So I thought about them harder. My breath normal, my heart beat same pace; so that mustn't be it. I thought about the stars. I thought about whether or not to put on my hood. I thought about the last time I walked around this neighborhood. I thought about how the cool breeze felt extremely good on my now cold legs. I thought about UCLA.
Imagined what it'd be like when I moved there. What kind of people I'd meet, what kind of things I'd be doing, what kind of friends I'd have. Then I thought of myself as of now, of how I think, how I act, how I dress. I realized how I haven't changed a bit; I'm still who I surround myself with. I talk like my friends do, I dress like them, I act the same way, I think the same thoughts as they do. Then I started to understand why I was out walking on the street instead of in my bed snoring. I feared my future friends. I feared how I will become just like my new friends, and what if they weren't good. I feared myself. I feared how I have everything to lose and I might just do exactly that.
In the quietness of the night, my head seemed especially loud. My UCLA train of thought hadn't even gotten to its station when it got interupted by the loud noise of another train pacing into my head. A train carrying presumptions that were proven wrong the next morning.
