Morning Pages, July 29, 2018

There wasn’t much dance left, so I went up to the roof to get high.

I sat sat five feet from Jillian, who barely acknowledged me at first. I didn’t much care either. i came up here to be alone, to stare off, and think about anything but the future. I heard her giggle. It got darker. From the roof, he could see lots of other roofs, but not much else. The horizon went on for a while. My first joint was too small to continue, and so I stomped it and started another one. Look, I’m not going to sorry for myself forever, but I am going to feel sorry for myself for at least one more joint.

High School was over. In the span of eight hours, I’d had sat in my last class, gone to my last high school dance, heard the Spin Doctors, and my girlfriend dumped me in front of everybody.

But then it didn’t end. It had happened too early in the night to truly matter. It was an opening act, a reminder that school dances were bottle episodes of drama. Not enough oxygen in the air, and too many people thinking this would be the last time they’d all see one another. It was bound to happen to someone. And I’d been so tossed overboard that I didn’t even know if it had happened to anyone else. Wrapped up in my own story, I wasn’t actually sure what else happened. Did anyone hook up that weren’t together at the beginning of the night? Did anyone else break up? Who cheated on who? Who danced with the wrong partner? Who grabbed the wrong coat, with the wrong note inside? I wanted to know. This dance was meant to close down this school, and to close out some books so others would open. That’s what my English teacher said morning. Close books. Open new ones. Hall smoked and watched the stars.

July 29, 2018