2AM and Quiet

My favorite time of the day is late at night. Always has been. I love the feeling that I’m the only person in the world who is awake. This is especially true of when I was growing up. I lived in a normal neighborhood, so late at night, it would be perfectly quiet. You could hear crickets chirping, leaves rustling, the wind blowing. I remember so many night where I would be out in the back yard, in my bare feet, kicking a soccer ball around. That was when I did my thinking, my soul-searching. That was my place. To this day, nothing has ever matched that feeling. When something was wrong, i’d be out there for hours, just walking around in the grass, just me, the soccer ball, and the stars. I needed that, because I had a lot to think about. There were always troubles, always things on my mind. I lived one short block away from my elementary school. I remember going there sometimes too. Late at night, just swing on the swings, or sitting on the benches, looking out over at the fields. The memories would rush back, all at once. Kickball on the diamond, football on the field. Four square. The bushes were we always thought homeless people lived. The holes in the fence. The tree with the burrs which we would throw at each other. The few times I am home, I make it a point to take a walk down to the school at night. It’s changed some, they renovated both the school itself, and the playground. I still remember the way it used to be though. My high school is within a relatively short walk too, but somehow it doesn’t capture the same feelings. So I go, and I sit, and I remember. So many things I remember about my town, the little things that I miss. Even the stupid things that nobody else remembers. The nature conservatory where Steve and I would go and get high and talk. Us playing soccer in our backyards several times a week, every week. It’s kinda funny. There are only 3 people in this world that I have ever truly felt a deeper connection with. One is my dad. Two is Steve, my best friend as a kid. Three is Rachel, my best friend from summer camp. And that is still true to this day. My dad and I remain as close as ever, though I hardly see him anymore. Steve and I have hardly seen each other since sophomore year of high school. He left for a private HS after our freshman year, and after a while we drifted apart. He goes to Stanford, and is graduating this spring. We don’t talk really, but I have seen him once or twice a year, usually winter break. And that connection is still just as strong. We’ve always been completely on the same wavelength, and its nice to know that we still are, even though we don’t have much contact. Rachel lives in Austin, and will be there for at least one more year at UT, but most likely will never leave TX. I’ve managed to see her about once a year since we’ve been in college. And we’re still completely strong together, like always. I guess the point is this. I live in southern california, away from all of them. I have some friends here, some who are good friends even. But nobody here has ever even remotely approached the type of relationship I have with these 3 people. There is no one person here who I feel I can rely on to be there for me. There are people I trust, people I would have no problem talking about anything with. But sometimes, you need something more from people. I just don’t have that. I guess the point is this. I see the people around me, and most of them have that support around them, either from family, or a close friend. When I leave for Hollywood in June, I will be starting over, again. This will be my third city, my third clean slate, my third chance to get things right. I feel like I need to capture that opportunity, and don’t let it go. I don’t want to keep moving forever, keep looking forever.