So Friday morning I woke up to Jon nudging me and telling me to get my lazy ass up. I'd hoped it was just a pessimistic dream and just lay there, completely still. But Jon kept at it, so I gave in. The whole point of being pessimistic is to make everything a pleasant surprise. I'm not supposed to be right, damn it.
As we loaded up the van, I spent a couple minutes indulging daydreams of last-minute goodbyes. But there was nothing as we pulled out of Salem.
I was pretty quiet that night in Southport. I know; with me, it's hard to tell. In my mind there a familiar debate had flared up again. Murphy was in the ring again; his opponent this particular fight night wasn't the usual Occam, but John Calvin instead. Half of me spat, "Maybe Carrie was The One. You'll never know now; you'll probably never even see her again. Idiot." The other half countered, "Hey. If it was meant to be, something would have happened. You don't even know yet; something could happen. Have patience."
I think the latter half's watched Serendipity one too many times.
I couldn't sleep last night. Too busy kicking myself. When Jon went to sleep I un- and re-packed my bag and shut off all the lights. Then I just stood there in the dark. It was as if my skin was itchy on the inside; I can't really describe it. More than ever I had the instinct for flight. I contemplated stealing a car and driving off into the night. In the end, I obviously decided against it. The killer wasn't any moral or legal reason, but simply that I had no idea how to make it out of Jon's parents' community.
As the plane approached Jersey, it became easier and easier to breathe. That was when I first realized that I'd been having trouble doing so. But the calm was coming from resignation; the little glimmer of hope I had inside of me was fading. I felt dead. I spend too much time just sitting and waiting for things to happen. I'm too afraid of doing anything because I'm scared of the consequences. I should just... do what I feel like. Be like the boy. We like Roy.
Except this time, I should stop saying I'll do it and just do it.
I took another look at that list of things I want to do before I die. Made some additions. Samples: Drive I-80 all the way from New Jersey to San Francisco. Fly a plane [from takeoff to landing]. Experience terminal velocity.
I'm formulating a post-graduation plan. The first step is still moving back to Jersey, just because there's nothing else to do at that point. Then there's the extremely vague get-a-job step. But there's the save-money step, because the next is to buy a car with a nice backseat and make the drive across the country. Once out there, continue living in the car until I set myself up somewhere. I'll admit the plan is pretty poor; I'm not very good at this sort of thing.
But it works for now.