One summer ago, in a land far far away i was apart of a movement in my life. Something i was bound to experience, given my family history. i found a way to be someone else. to escape who i had been for so long and start anew. using my last name as a call sign, and starting fresh in a new town where i knew little more than 3 people.
drinking was new to me, frequent drinking that is. and smoking was a new thing as well. perfect habits to have newly coined on a trip to becoming the invisible man. i say this because of the act i pulled. a summer in town, making friends, working hard, partying even harder, and then no one hears from this kid again. he just leaves, and a few people from the town talk to him every now and then, but everybody else doesn't even know where the kid is.
a chamelon, fitting perfectly jigsaw-like into the scene, and removing itself just as easily. and that worked for every encounter i came across. i smoked so i met smokers. i drank, so i met drinkers, and on the coat tails of these borderline law benders, and breakers, were the dregs.
With them came coke heads, 19 year old girls at school on daddy's dime and living like paris or lindsay, drunken, in trouble, and strung out most of the time.
the X-men, eyes wide, teeth gnashing, they usually sipped orange juice. thyey danced, and laughed, the life of the party, with little more than a sideways glance from a sober bartender.
the psycho-delics. Neo-hippies if you will, those willing to use anything to alter their current state of mind. self elevation through chemical masturbation.
all of these characters gathered together beneath the umbrella of college to sway and surge together in experimentation, exploration, freedom, and life.
It was a party, self sustaining, and chocked full of life and love for it. the regulars, and the locals, all thriving off of eachothers energy on the dance floor, or in the bar, or in someones back yard.
and that is when i realized, i need to leave. the party was litterally killing me.
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