For the sake of my peace, and the curiosity of those who don't know me too well, I'm going to re-etch one of my least favorite memories from this past year.
It was a Sunday night on the last weekend of October. Starting out the evening in the same fashion I always did on Sundays, me and a couple of my friends were watching some TV on my futon and eating popcorn out of those microwavable bowls. The two friends I was with both had some homework, or various other bullshit things to tend to, so it ended up just being me. I was listening to "Pyrite" by Frank Ocean at my desk, and started to feel a repressed sensation I hadn't known for a while; a certain sadness that seemed inexplicable and unprovoked. I didn't want to be in my dorm any longer (lucky for me, I had a car this year at school) and so I grabbed my keys and headed out towards my Jetta. I was sitting in the parking lot, trying to define this outer-worldly feeling to myself to help grasp some plausible cure to it. I called my ex. She tried to briefly console me, but it was a dead end. I called my best friend. He sympathized with me, but didn't know what kind of guidance to provide. I called my parents. I started crying, and didn't know why. My mom could hardly bare to hear it; it was something she hadn't heard or seen since I was about seven years old. I told her I hated college, I told her I missed home, I told her I needed to see a doctor, I told her a bunch of things that I didn't know and didn't believe. My mom didn't know what to do; it was the first time in my life that my parents didn't know what to do and didn't know what to tell me. It was a feeling of independence I wasn't prepared for. I hung up the phone and started driving. I didn't turn the radio on, didn't freestyle over instrumentals from my iPod, didn't send occasional texts; just sat and drove. I made my way across the 8th street bridge which runs perpendicular to i-94 (my route home from school). I kept driving until I was out of Moorhead's city limits; until i was out of it's neighboring city's limits. I found a desolate dirt road that weaved through an old, already harvested cornfield. I peeled off of 8th street and put my car in park. There was a vast line of tower-high lightpoles that blinked on and off on my left side. I spent a couple minutes staring at them, quickly grasping the blinking pattern. I started to think about my past; the friendships/relationships that ended, and the phases of my childhood I wouldn't be able to re-live. I was convinced that I deserved more years of youth, more errors to make, more successes to seek. I sat out on the road for a couple hours; following the worst sensation of my life, this setting was complete bliss. I thought about how I could just live out here for a couple days; nobody would notice I was hiding in the cornfield. I didn't want to go back to campus, but I went. I got out of my car once I re-entered the dorm's parking lot. I headed back up to my room, which was still vacant. I wrote my first verse to "Social Network." I laid in my bed, and fell asleep almost immediately. When I woke up, I was happy again. I felt as though I had something to prove to my weaker-self from a day ago. I was motivated, I was driven. I promised to myself I would never feel as lowly as I did that Sunday evening in late October; and I haven't.
For a while, I thought that my episode that night was an early indication of some form of depression. The illness ran in my family (like it does it many others), and I was worried that I might develop it. I didn't. I've battled through anxiety for a good portion of my life. I get overly-worried about minor things, and feel occasional claustrophobia as well as sickness before huge events. College was a huge event. I have only been in college for 1/19 of my life but it has drastically changed me already. For the first time ever, I have been making decisions for myself. Not decisions which are aimed to appease my parents, not decisions which keep the happiness of my girlfriend, and not decisions that I have been pressured into by my peers. I've matured, I've become responsible, and I'm proud of myself. For a while, I've been afraid to tell anybody about my experience on that Sunday night. I've feared being called "soft," i've feared my friend's worrying about me, and I've feared my reputation being tainted. I don't give a shit anymore. I think without that cloudy day, I would never have gained appreciation for the sunny ones. I still have my bad moods from time-to-time. To my friends, thank you for persisting through them. To my family, I'm grateful for your support in my longevity. To my God, I'm sorry I haven't always trusted you.
I feel liberated, and I feel calm. I can look back at my past easily, and look towards my future readily. It's a good feeling...
-Jack
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