After 8 years you—and by you I mean me—would think I'd be ready to get out, grow up, live off a real income, and settle down. The crew that I hung with on Weaver 3 and East 1 has split for work or marriage or law school or parts unknown. The people I came out with stay up too late for me—turns out I'm a seriously morning person. So why now more than ever do I want to stay?
"…that's the reason that I gotta get outa here. I'm so alone. Doncha know that I gotta get outa here."
I don't really want to stay; you know. I want to get stuck in a Mobius strip where time becomes a loop, reliving a select handful of moments till the end of time, holding onto my happiness in the shape of a life preserver. Of course it doesn't work that way.
Posted by Tom at October 9, 2003 8:41 PM