The cigarette ash flies in your eyes, and you don't mind.

February 4th, 2007.
I miss that day. I was thirteen, small, awkward, and even then I wasn't sure where my place in the world was.
My brother, mom, and I were out at a local restaurant.
I was in trouble because a few nights before I snuck out.
I was supposed to go to a concert a month and four days later, but they threatened to not let me go.
My brother was about to leave to go bowling with his girlfriend and invited me along.
It was calming.
We played a few games with the bumpers and a few without.
Either way, I kind of sucked. But I love bowling.
Blair and I talked, and I tried to write. I didn't write much that night.
But she got drunk, and in the process of being drunk, convinced my brother to still take me to the concert.
When we were on our way to take me home (we were in Cantonment, where my brother and Blair lived. It's a township that is part of Pensacola, but not.) we stopped at a gas station so they could get cigarettes.
Have you ever paid attention to the lights of a gas station at night?
It makes you feel like you're up in space, about to get on a space ship.
Then we drove off, and the smell of the smoke would flow back into the windows and I could smell it.
I don't think I'll ever smoke, but the smell was comforting.
I could see the lights of the cars behind us reflected in the side mirrors, and the car lights in front of us.
As we drove, I felt amazing. I felt like I belonged.
Then we stopped at a wal mart, and they included me in all of their little jokes.
It was great, but then I was back at home. Back in reality.
That's how I feel every day now.
Something amazing happens, but then I realize it's time to come back down to earth.
Sometimes, I wish I had a way to stay up in space.
I love the idea of just floating up there with stars and planets surrounding me.