Spent day at crew, where I had a lot of fun hanging out with upperclassmen and working on this terrific set and this very interesting play, fell slightly in love with the protagonist of said play, stayed working (as a VOLUNTEER) till three in the morning perhaps somewhat because of the aforementioned, and then....standing outside as we're all leaving to go to this cast party, I feel these words just sort of bubbling up out of nowhere:
"I'm going home!" and my feet start to move and my brain is screaming "YOU ARE LONELY YOU ARE HORNY YOU ARE DUMB" but I turn around anyways, and this boy is saying, actually saying "Aww, no, don't leave" and he seems genuinely kind of distressed, and I mutter something about not having two dollars for the subway and let everyone hug me and call me marvelous and I turn, and for a second I wave with my back turned like Sally Bowles and think "you are so cool, so very aloof, you have a strong head on your shoulders" but then reality sets in by Wannamaker Place and I am just a self-saboteur, as awkward and as unhealthy and as unlikely to ever just BE FREE, like an artist, like a woman, like a happy person ought to be, no, no, I am still in the seventh grade, and I do not deserve to whine because I have glimpsed bravery and stood on the brink of being a different person but every time--let's say god, for lack of a better word--presents me with a choice I choose...wrong. I am still awake. I will always wonder what else could have happened tonight. I'm not a stalker, it's not a huge deal, but in the grander scheme of things this is my life and I am not steering it correctly. I should not have a license.
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