Amidst the outside darkness lights flash by the tinted windows, impossible to really see through with the glowing internal lights and rain smears. Is it morning? Is it night? Am I going to work or coming home? Does it really matter?
I am tempted to stay on the train until it has gone as far as it can go… reason tells me that it will eventually stop and this being the light rail it will simply turn around and go back the direction it came from. Or, to be more accurate, it won’t even bother to turn around… It will just begin to go in the opposite direction until it reaches the other end. It is like a large highly motivated pendulum that slips back and forth, up and down the valley. You will eventually be right back wherever it was you started. You can’t run away if you never get out of the loop.
It was a mistake to go… I know this and yet I resist the judgment. I don’t want to make mistakes, and if I make them, I want them to count for something, to have taught me something. Already the experience is fading but the lesson to be learned hasn’t hit yet and so I refuse to dwell on the misguided actions. If I am always true to myself, can I ever do something worth regretting? Regardless of what history will make of tonight, I am still here, and I am still me.
And I am still restless.
For a while I liked to imagine myself as a boat out on the water… riding the waves of life… the ups, the downs, I knew I could deal with them because after all I was well built. I trusted in the past experiences that had forged my hull, cast my riggings. My sails were no stranger to harsh winds and whatever storm came along I could deal with it. This faith in myself was tempered by the notion that that I was on my way somewhere, seeking out something… and once I found my safe harbor, I would find peace.
The more I think about it though, the more I don’t think this metaphor really works. A ship is made to be on the water, in the sea, responding to the waves and in an almost constant state of motion. It might pull into port for a bit, a rest, but it doesn’t stay there… boats that don’t leave the harbor are the old decommissioned ones. Even if the ship isn’t salvaged for parts but instead converted into a restaurant, a museum, or some other tourist trap type place it remains a pathetic shadow of what it had once been, what it had been intended to be. Its glory days, its days of living out its purpose are over. Am I a ship looking for safe harbor? Or am I a ship that is still reveling in the drama of the storms?
Regardless, I am restless. I feel like dancing, singing, howling at the nonexistent moon, making a big decision, taking a frightening risk. Maturely, and with some small bit of self pride, I decide to stay away from ex boyfriends, ATMs, and liquor tonight. I will instead lose myself in something else. I will let the music wash over me, let the worlds of Steinbeck or Rice or Irving surround me. I will be good.