It was October, getting cold. I was walking with my friend to grab boba, and I was worried because I had read earlier that the government is definitely watching us, and that was creepy. 

Anyways, I was looking up to the clouds and thinking, well, at least we’ve still got this beautiful sunset. I imagine I looked a fright because the wind was picking up and swirling my hair all about my face. Some of it got in my mouth, and I did not like the taste. My friend joked about how hair has extra protein and is good for the diet. I remember smacking her. 

We strolled past my friend’s house, and I noticed her dad on the porch. I saw something like smoke drifting from his silhouette, but I figured I was mistaken because he is a minister and does not smoke; and suddenly I turned to say hi from behind the hydrangea patch, and he saw movement, my hair maybe, and it frightened him, so he jumped. Then he said Jesus, kid! What are you doing sneaking around in the evening? I told him I was just hanging out with a friend. I tilted my head back a little, like how my mother describes corpses’ heads in the morgue. My hair whipped my face. I closed my mouth because it was annoying me again. 

My friend took a long sip from her drink. She told me I looked weird, which I found weird because I was only standing there. It reminded me a lot of how everyone else acted around me. 

Expectational weight felt rather heavy that autumn evening. I was remarkably unmotivated to do anything except stand there and watch the sky, so my friend turned in for the night. I gave her a wave as she left. Her father followed her inside, and I continued to stand there underneath the everlasting sky. 

My fingertips had calluses from practicing music, and my knuckles did too because I had been working out a lot that month. My calves were killing me since I had gone out for a run that morning. I had run a lot. Because I was angry, I think. With the world. With myself. Both, maybe. 
I remember the feeling of anger because I have the same anger now. An effervescent mixture of cola and vodka, hot tears blurring my periphery, and barbed wire tight around my larynx. 

The sun has nearly dipped beyond the horizon. I hadn’t noticed.

It’s weird, isn’t it? Time goes by, minute by minute, and everything is the same, but then another second passes and suddenly

Everything is different.