Jan 24, 2010

The grayness outside sucked the life out of me. I could see the world wasn’t planning to change any colors today, yet I convinced myself there wasn’t any time to stay in my room. It was the type of morning you anxiously try and rationalize as a day completely made for dismissal, even though “live everyday to the fullest” beats its fucking drum in your head. It took me almost four hours to actually make it outside, but I did. And for what? A photograph of three fire trucks in front of an Adidas store with a taxi cab whizzing by? I could have just posted my luggage, or my amazing breakfast. Instead I felt compelled to risk being caught in a downpour, to accidentally reach a platform only to realize the express train was running local all week, which meant an added 12 minutes on the train. No. I had to try. And it’s all because of that menace complicating my life since childhood: guilt. Guilt made me do this. It wasn’t inspiration, or anxiety, or an epiphany. It was all guilt.