The Sox just lost Game One. Are we surprised? ^^ The drive back to school was refreshing, but scary. In Augusta, taking the back road, I came SO close to hitting someone on a rotary in the middle of town. Millimeters. The horns condemning my driving are noisy and reverberating. They still honk, even now. I was scared, but I'm used to being immune to fear. It's been a long time since I've been afraid of anything. My existence has been so lonely here. I work with people who share my same interest, my same misery. I have one person to love, and it's strange, the consequence: my life has become exclusive, focused. People without that same focus are jealous of me, but not enough to abandon a blurry life. I feel compulsive needs to do everything myself. At work, I have to mitigate conflict. I am the peacemaker, I am Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and I am Truman after I dropped the bomb. I jump in after the noise and I silence it. I talked to a friend of mine, Nate, in a cafe in the downtown of my hometown. That was nice. He's doing well, a senior at a maritime academy just south of me. Doing what I would have done had I stayed. I am almost jealous. I was almost regretful. If only I hadn't been so wrapped up and happy with now. With the thought of tomorrow. And I can't think straight, I can't hear correctly. I see the static from the past more clearly. It's sneaking up on me, like it has so many times before, and that scares me. The past is that car I could have polished with the fender of my fiancee's 1999 Saturn. It is the horn of shock and revolt, it is gripping the wheel after turning off of the rotary. The past is a storm I've tried running away from so many times.