Feeling:
Listening to:
Reading/Watching:

I dropped Jae off at her dorm, but when I drove back to the juncture between her dorm, mine, and the exit, I went out beyond the gates.

In Houston I used to hop in my car and drive when I needed to think. Miles and miles, with nothing but the monotonous press of a foot on the gas pedal and the occasional twist on the steering wheel. I could absorb myself in music (usually my own mix tapes... I abhor most radio) and comb through every little piece of thought that drifted into my head.

I'd have conversations aloud with people I was thinking about. I'd carefully plan important speeches I needed to deliver to a friend, boyfriend, teacher, whatever. These speeches were rarely repeated to anyone, but it made me feel more settled to put them into words anyway.

Over time it became costly (and unhealthy) because I inevitably stopped at some kind of drive-through to get a snack. It's a big reason for the weight I gained the summer after graduation.

When I got to school, I was carless. Times when I needed to think, I was forced to get off my butt and walk around. Usually I went to punish a piano, or just walked the entire length of campus, to the farthest corner and back, running through my thoughts as usual, but this time unable to plan my monologues or listen to music because obviously, people were around.

Tonight, I had my car. And I felt that same itchy-foot feeling. Since it's about ten degrees outside, taking a walk is not an option. So I drove off campus, having no idea where I'd go.

My odometer read 54 miles when I left. I headed for the Loop and drove up and down it for over an hour, enjoying the long stretches where every light was green and I had three lanes to myself. I'd tap my horn every time I'd pass a Jim's, hee hee. All in all, I passed three. Odd, since I'd never even heard of Jim's while I was living in Houston.

When I finally pulled back into campus, my odometer read 97 miles.

I know none of this matters at all to any of you, but I just felt like talking about it. It was so peaceful. The Indigo Girls are my pensive driving music, just so you know. I have a mix of Rites of Passage, with their first album and a bit of Swamp Ophelia thrown in.

I really feel beautiful tonight. I can't explain why, but my shoulders are straighter. My head is higher. My eyes are more open.

I wonder what it is about us, the insecure girls, that makes this sort of feeling such a rarity. Who taught us that confidence was arrogance? Who told us that modesty had to equal self-deprecation? What monster gave us the power to minimalize every good thing we do? What beast broke us down into little pieces and made us magnify every flaw until they eclipsed all else?

He's in me somewhere, roaming around, gnawing at the edges of my strength, digging in his claws every time a less than perfectly turned phrase comes out of my mouth. You know, I think people like me better when I'm more reckless, more unapologetic. Not that he wants me to know this. Because if I break loose of his hold he won't have anything to prey on. And he'll starve and wither to nothing.

He's been a part of me for so long, he deserves a name, I think. Desmond. That sounds like a fitting name, supposedly harmless and restrained, when in reality, it contains the word "Demon."

I like feeling this way. Treating it like a separate part of me, something I can detach when I wish. Something I have control over. Tomorrow Desmond may have dug in his teeth deep again, but tonight he's on a diet.

I like feeling beautiful.

Comments? 0 so far...
Not a Diaryland member? Sign the Guestbook.