I don't... I mean I don't know what to do. I mean, she's so beautiful, but she's way out
of my league, but we're really good friends and all.
It's 1:20 in the morning and she's just dropped me off at home and when I walked up to my front
door she waited at the end of the driveway, the car in park, not going anywhere. And when I finally
unlocked and opened my front door she drove away, kind of slowly, I thought.
So I'm down in my room worrying that I missed something, some awful clue about her feelings
towards me, something I'm just not smart enough to pick up on. I pace about the floor whispering
obscenities, as my brain pours out a little plan to get her to come back. Ask her to
come back to watch a movie with you. Do it. Do it now before she drives across town to her
"No! No! No!" screams the other voice in my head, the voice of the mind, "if you do that, god
knows what will happen!" What? I might get her to come back here? We might sit on the couch and
watch movies and sit close to each other? "No! You're going to screw it up. Your friendship will
be destroyed, in tatters, in unrecognizable bits on the floor."
No it will not. That's it. I'm calling. "No! You can't do this!"
5 5 5 - 1 *click*
"You'll regret it."
5 5 5 - 1 2 1 *click*
"You'll hate yourself. And she'll hate you."
Shut up shut up. You can't stop me. I'm not letting you stop me. Never again.
5 5 5 - 1 2 1 2
"Er, hi. It's me. Umm... I know you're... half way across town by now and... I'm just and
idiot but... I was wondering if you'd like to come back here and watch a movie...?"
"That would be so cool, but I have a curfew."
"Yeah, I'm really sorry. My parents and I got in a big fight and now I have to be home by
1:30. But soon enough we can do cool stuff like that."
"O.K. Well, sorry. Bye."
"Call me sometime, 'kay? Bye."
It was not the answer I wanted. But... the voice was silent. That little voice that berated me and told me not to do things was quiet, oh so quiet. And I felt so good
that I made the call despite the answer. Now, I understand that little voice of the mind, that
tiny, hissing, berating, goddamn little voice. It is the voice of fear, and we have nothing to
fear but fear itself.