There are times where I manage to get outside myself. Where I can stop thinking about my issues, stop thinking about the things that are hurtling towards me. And even the things that are of concern to me.
Let’s face it, even those commercials asking you to feed starving children in Africa appeal to your desire to feel like you’re helping someone less fortunate than yourself.
I still think of myself as the boy from a small town; but I don’t know how real that is any more. I first noticed in college that I have a certain amount of adjustment time whenever my environment changes. For the first couple weeks of school, I was running into walls, tripping, and knocking stuff over. Not so much later, though, I was smoothly moving through the dorms, half asleep and half nekkid, with no problems. Now I see myself doing that in DC. I can really walk the street and feel like I belong there. Hell. Just the fact I feel anything but paranoia on the street is a major change, since I was assaulted.
I don’t know how to describe the feeling really. Very peaceful. Very alive. Very “just is”. According to the quote taped up to the wall over my desk, I guess this is happiness.
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