Sojourn (Part Two)

So this is what it’s like on top of a grocery store in the middle of the night. I regret doing this. There’s a crazy number of people walking in and out of the store. I wonder if I’ll get caught. My hands are scraped up and I’m not sure how I’ll get down. I’m not sure how I got up. Why did I think this was a good idea?

I pace around a bit. It’s pitch black and I trip over a pipe and fall down. As I fell I worried I’d bust through the ceiling and crash to the ground and die. Nope, I just gave myself half of a concussion.

Is this supposed to be metaphorical? Is this like a microcosm of my life? Take a risk, get held back by fear of failure? I’m lying here spitting out dirt - literally, not figuratively; I’m actually pretty well-off, to be honest - and I don’t think any of this climbing-on-the-roof nonsense mattered. I didn’t get my nice little personal epiphany; I didn’t gain any new perspective on my life. I looked at a parking lot and watched a few people I didn’t know drive away.

I’m old, and I’m tired, and I’m banged up and scraped to hell. These sad little romantic impulses are killing me.