I hate stepping back into reality. Those moments when whatever fantasy or wonderful event I’m experiencing ends and it’s my life again. It’s more like falling off a curb than taking a step.
I went to an awesome concert tonight – Molly Jenson, Sara Watkins, and Jamie Drake. I invited S—. I know he digs Sara but he didn’t text back. The music was powerful. A few singalongs. A fight. I wished I had someone to talk to at the break. But as best I could I stayed in the moment.
Images of Randy flashed in my head, of faces at the group last night, text from emails. I wished that when it was over I could write and then walk to my own little apartment nearby. Like at USC I could leave the concerts and go home peacefully, or not peacefully, or not go home.
Instead, I walked outside to wait for my mom, who upon my entering the car began complaining about the time, and money, and asking me a bunch of irrelevant questions. She’s upset that I’m hungry. Now silence. I will get home not to a quiet place of my own but a stressful place I can’t seem to get away from.
But for just awhile it all goes away. Music does that for me. Live, loud, emotional music. And the ocean. And the movies. Tonight was interrupted by a stupid text I chose to ignore, but was lovely. And yes, it was lonely. But even for lonely, it was good.