I just wanted to be alone; not because of anything terrible that had happened, just alone. It's a rare but precious occasion that I'm compelled toward complete solitude without the benefit of some horrendous reason.
Decided to go alone to the local high school's production of some original play. It was rainy for the first time in several months and the ground was muddy for once, instead of sandy, dusty, shitty... Had there not been a million and one streetlights around, the night would have been so dark that I couldn't have seen my hand in front of my face.
Was walking across the yard of the College of Santa Fe with a sort of lost feeling... Santa Fe, as a city, was VERY poorly planned; it's very easy to lose yourself there when you're used to puritanically square city blocks on the East Coast. Santa Fe as a college follows suit with its namesake, such that you have to memorize little landmarks and trace little footpaths or you'll end up hopelessly turned-around even if you're just trying to get to the grocery store half a block away. I hadn't bothered to follow the route I thought I knew: out the main entrance gate, and up St. Michael's Road... Instead, I tried my luck at crossing the back yard of the college: through the muddy desert, onto a road I didn't know the name of, and up the hill, where I thought the high school might be, based on some of the weird sounds I'd heard coming from that direction.
Don't know why I wanted so badly to go see the stupid high school play. It WAS stupid; probably one of the worst theater productions I've ever seen, and I've seen a few in my life... It was mainly just an excuse to be alone, to do something alone.
Halfway across the yard, I paused, looked up into the rain, which had soaked through my jeans and sneakers... Realized that I was, as planned, entirely alone. Realized that I could have died right there, and nobody would ever find me... No, they'd eventually find me... But they'd have NO idea what I was doing out there. They'd speculate that I had gotten lost, that I was trying to get to Kmart, or the grocery store... They'd ask one another, "when was the last time you spoke to her?" They'd compare notes until they found some acceptable answer, and someone would, in delirious unhappiness, realize that the last words I'd ever spoken were to them: probably something like, "hey, see you tomorrow in class..." They'd tear through my room, evict all my letters and notebooks, looking for some reasonable explanation as to why I'd gone out there into the desert and died... Of course, they'd never find an answer, because I'd just had a compulsion...
No one had ANY idea where I was...
No one cared enough to tag along, to ask where I was going...
Probably nobody even missed me.
That was exactly the way I wanted it. Didn't want anyone to think about me. Didn't want anyone to care. Didn't want anyone to want to know me, where I was, what I was doing, what I was thinking, ANYTHING about me. Just for a little while, I just wanted to be free of everything, of everyone who pulled at me... Even loved ones -- especially loved ones -- have a tendency to stretch you out of yourself sometimes. I wanted none of that. Just wanted to be. To be and to be alone.
If I died, it would be awhile before anyone realized I was missing, found my body. Likewise, if I lived, it would be a long time before it occurred to anyone that I was alive. And so I WAS alive, and more alive than ever.
Went to the high school's play, and walked back alone. And I'll never tell what I did in the desert. Wasn't much of anything, really -- nothing scandalous, nothing you'd be shocked at. But it was MINE: my private moment.
Came back with muddy sneakers to an empty dorm room. On the way in, somebody asked me why my shoes were so dirty. I didn't answer.
~Helena*