I'm not sure exactly how to feel right now. I suppose I just feel old, but I don't think I feel that way for the right reasons. I suppose I just feel that way because of my surroundings, not my age. Friends are gone. People are starting to bang down the financial door. There's drinking age and driving privilege. There's needing a new home because currently, home isn't home. There's work and its monotony. And having to get used to it; that's just the beginning of the haul. My father gave me leave to take one of his cars, a 1990 Pontiac Fiero with 170,000 miles traveled, to work and back. I didn't ask for the ability to do so. Now that I've done it once, though, I find myself wanting to do more. I want to take that car, and me, out to the middle of nowhere. I want to stand at the edge of time, or a cliff, or wherever you can imagine me, and stay there. I want to imagine myself plunging off the end and never landing, but just floating on the edge of oblivion. I want to take the car with me, take my body and my mind, and meet my soul where it's been standing for so long. But, for now, my mind and body are stuck here, in Bath, Maine, in the United States of America, stuck with obligations to an underpaying electronics corporation, beautifully attached at the hip to a gorgeous, refreshing lady, soaked with sleepiness and dreams, eaten alive by anticipation, dying for the chance to step outside the door like I never have before. I don't want to be gone anymore. I want to be there. I want to know where 'there' is. I want to stand out in the rain and feel like I'm there, at least for now. Because my soul is there, waiting.