Ra-in-Seattle

It’s the nicest thing to be buzzing, in the morning, and not be called an alcoholic because you’re still in school. That’s your excuse right there, even though you actually missed the sunrise because it was a gray and cloudy morning. Somehow I don’t think I’ll ever achieve the goal of going to class drunk - after chardonnay and merlot on the rooftop shaft of Portage Bay Garage overlooking Portage Bay, we headed to Portage Bay Cafe for brekkie, and Greg paid for our classic benedict. With the added ham, even though I can’t even eat it.

The more I think about leaving Terry, the more sentimental I become. Bittersweet, bittersweet. Walking down the hallway in my fluffy blue slippers, slipping into Collin’s room and stripping off his doona. He shakes his head, and for a minute I think he’s flaking out on me. But he appears, minutes later, with the same innocent sketchy smile and furry hat. I like him in ways I cannot connect the dots. He has such a likeable persona that one finds hard to dismiss. His curly locks helps too.

The way Greg goes about his words, I almost feel like he’s from Hawaii. So chilled and nonchalant about everything, except when we’re impeding on his newfound responsibilities and resolutions. These boys are so spontaneous it makes me wanna move closer to the edge and be ready for the openness and expansion that lies ahead of me, these blank days of Centrelink and job applications. I’m not ready, and I want to stay in college for a few more years yet. I’m not ready to be old and responsible to someone about my time and punctuality and work. Even intentional community and all the commitment you have to give yourself to. But where else can we flee from such things? And is chasing this like chasing the wind?

Probably.