It's my severe case of senioritis* that's got me always having one foot out the door, car keys in hand and Chuck Taylors on feet; constantly feeling the tug of the invisible thread that beckons me to go on a new adventure. Whereas my daydreams used to be nothing more than fantasizing over what would happen next in the coming episode of Friends, they've since turned into intricate plans of how to get me out of my house. I mostly rely on the weekends to subside my wanderlust but even after a rowdy party with friends, no part of my soul wants to go home past midnight. I am a Cancer the Crab after all. I come awake under the light of the moon. It's a part of my nature to want to grab a friend, find a vast open field, and watch the stars all night. I have a curfew though and my friends have curfews too. There was simply no escaping the inevitable parental curfew that forbade my soul from having it's sweet, sweet freedom...dun dun dun..or so I thought.
I met a person. He was a tall 6'6" boy with big brown eyes, a knack for adventure, a love for the night, and best of all, no curfew. I couldn't help but use my Cancer Crab claw and latch on to him in all hopes that he'd latch on to me too. He did and from that moment forward, he became the key piece to my next big idea.
Timing is everything and when it's supposed to happen, it'll happen. ⇽ Important lesson I've learned this year.
The reality that this is my last year at home has begun to sink in. I'm to move away when this summer ends and it's struck me that I now have a time limit on many of the things I've wished to do since I first became a teenager. If I allow it, time will not be my friend but if I embrace it, this year could be the best 365 days of my life so far.
When I decided that I wanted to sneak out of my house and I mean really decided, everything seemed to fall into place on its own. I found me a trusty sidekick, I found me the perfect evening, and I found me the perfect timing.
FEBRUARY SEVENTEENTH:
In the earliest hours of Saturday morning, after a Friday night out, I watched as my time awake really began. The wind slowed, the stars came out, and the adrenaline in my veins spiked. In my bedroom that night, I changed into something comfortable (a vintage tee, leggings, and a button down denim shirt). I closed my bedroom door, grabbed a pair of slip on shoes, and turned out the lights. With shoes in hand, I crept into my closet and out the small white door that led into my studio. From there it became step, stop, listen, repeat. Before I knew it, I had found myself turning the last door knob and stepping out into the brisk night air. I slipped on my shoes and with a huge childish grin on my face, I took off in a full sprint down the lane.
I don't remember every detail from that night. One's mind plays tricks on you when it's supposed to be sleeping. I do, however, remember the triumph I felt. Every part of me wanted to punch my fist into the air like John Bender at the end of The Breakfast Club over and over again. It felt really good to just do something so childish and immature. So damn good.
The brown eyed boy was parked on the edge of the road, his big black truck my golden chariot. We didn't drive off into the sunrise or do anything of that nature. We only listened to music and the hours became filled with laughter and giggles when we picked up and dropped off his dad, older brother, and their friends from a bar. It was captivating to see and experience a whole different life from the one I grew up so used to. My family was at home sleeping whereas his was still wide awake, laughing, and being completely open with each other. There was no filter on what came out of their mouths and to me, in that moment, it was beautiful.
The brown eyed boy and I didn't have time to ourselves again until 4am when we were finally able to slap happy-ishly stumble our way down the steps to his basement. We talked, froze time, and talked some more for an hour. When 5am came around, we started the drive home to my house in a race to beat the sun. We laughed, froze time when we could, and drove on.
I ended up making it back to my bed uncaught and tired, but still buzzed on the high that that morning had given me. I was for just a few hours able to let go of the anxieties and chains that hang over the heads of us teenagers in today's society. Time didn't feel alive during those hours awake. It was life that did. Life felt alive and life for once didn't feel like it was betraying me. Life felt good. Life is good.
*Senioritis (n.) (pronounced senior-eye-tis) - A crippling disease that strikes high school seniors. Symptoms include: laziness, an over-excessive wearing of track pants, old athletic shirts, sweatpants, athletic shorts, and sweatshirts. Also features a lack of studying, repeated absences, and a generally dismissive attitude. The only known cure is a phenomenon known as Graduation. (Shoutout to Urban Dictionary for the perfectly described definition)
P.S. Aunt You-Know-Who, I know you're reading this and I'm trusting you with the obvious here... ;)
Dream big, Darlings!
