October 26th, 1997

Walk under the stars

Yesterday afternoon I went to the town to see my sister. We met in a coffeshop, where we had some hot chocolate and talked about this and that, then moved on to the pub, where she had a beer, and I a nonalcoholic one. Smoked a cigarrette as well, my first in two weeks, and it still tasted good, I'm afraid. The place was nice and comfortable, warm while outside winter was approaching, and filled with people. I enjoyed knowing that I'm not alone in this world.

I drove my sister home, then started the semi-long journey home (abot 45 minutes), the radio turned up high, enjoying my own company, and everything felt just right. Then, after driving for half an hour, I ran out of gas. I stomped on the clutch and put it into neutral, then pulled into a small forest road, thinking I might stop a car and use their phone (since probably half the people in the country do, the chances were better than average that they'd have one) to call my dad and have him bring some gas. I then noticed that the clutch wasn't working, nothing happened when I pushed the pedal. I cursed a bit about this, although smiling at the coincidence of running out of gas at the same time as my clutch came apart. Then something more serious dawned on me; I only had dark clothes on, it was 3 degrees below freezing, and about a six mile walk to the nearest house.

I got out of the car, after putting on all the clothes I had lying around in it, and discovered that (as I'd suspected) the few cars passing by couldn't see me due to my dark clothing (the one person who did see me just honked his horn and passed me, prompting from me a few select curses in his general direction). So I started walking, hungry and cold, and generally in bad shape, realizing that if I sat down in my thin clothes and feel asleep, I'd probably never wake up again. Now, this fact somehow made me feel better, which I think is the point of those whole text. Walking along that lonely road late at night, I had a feeling that I haven't had in a while. I felt that I was in charge of things, and that I was taking care of myself. I walked along, watching the stars and the dark trees around me, passed a couple of houses where no one was home, and eventually (after walking for about an hour and a half) reached one where a man let me in so I could use his phone.

I guess I'm trying to say that the thing I realized that night was that I live here and now, and that it might end at any time, so why not appreciate what I have? Sure, I know that intellectually, but it's not all that often that I _feel_ it that strongly...