gee, your hay smells terrific

I'm writing a research paper. It shouldn't even be difficult, but it is. It feels like I'm burning up from the inside.

I ran for a little bit. That helped, sort of. I had this bone-deep certainty that if I could only run far and fast enough, the exhaustion would weaken some interior barrier that's holding the fear and tension inside and I'd be so much better. It's happened before. Once.

Sometimes I wonder how I managed to keep it together so (relatively) well in junior high, but then I remember that I was taking ballet and running cross country. Sometimes on the same days. I stopped running when I entered high school and I quit ballet after my freshman year. I can't say I'd second-guess those decisions, and I won't speculate on cause and effect, but I do think there's at least some correlation between the lack of exercise and the steady downhill of my mental health after that.

Now I take long walks at night. I can't bring myself to stop, no matter what. The ferocity of my dedication kind of weirds me out. I had a fever last week, cold sweat and all. My nose was running and I coughed a lot. I went walking anyway. It was actually a very interesting experience. As I was reviewing possible destinations, my brain absolutely latched onto the idea of water. Living water, not stagnant ponds. Water that moves. I decided to go to the river and get a drink from a fountain and hope it satisfied.

It's very strange to be walking at night with a bad head cold. It compromises three of your five senses. The dark, of course, makes it harder to see and the cold muffles your hearing and sense of smell. It's like walking through some alternate form of fog.

I passed a church that had part of its lawn covered in a layer of hay. Around my sniffling, I could vaguely smell something rich and intoxicatingly sweet. I had almost walked past the building before I gave in and knelt down on the ground to smell the hay, just to see if it was the source. It was. I have no idea if it would have smelled good if my nose had been properly functioning, but at that moment, it was delicious.

I got my fountain drink, which was indeed satisfying, then I went home and groaned a lot. A good fever can really sap your strength. But I'm glad I went. I had an amazing time.

For all their well-documented flaws, the suburbs are breathtaking at night. It's so deserted outside. No one's around and it's just miles and miles of twisting roads and lights and trees and ponds and powerlines. Empty buildings with lit-up signs. The occasional car is surreal, isolated from the concept of traffic. I even like to see police cars at night. I like the full effect of flashing colors. And it's interesting to see the officers half-swallowed in the shadows, clutching their flashlights, because everything changes at night. The darkness dwarfs the law. When there's a group of officers, they stand close together.

I wonder if it would have changed things, if I'd known in high school that I was living right in the middle of this. Something to which I can't begin to do justice. Beauty and awe. I don't know if I would have understood. Maybe I just wouldn't have seen it. What if I did? I don't know if I would have been able to accept that I couldn't bring my friends. Because walking with other people, while amazing in its own right, is ultimately about being with other people. The things that make the surroundings so special are too subtle and fragile. They get ever so slightly lost.

Maybe it's a blessing that I didn't know. On top of all that, I don't think my parents could have brought themselves to let me out in the dark by myself. Maybe it's good that I didn't know what I was missing.

Well, I feel cleansed.

Now. About that research paper...