Today was a good day.
To start with, I fell asleep at about two in the morning. I'd gone to bed at ten, but my internal clock just wouldn't let me rest. Four hours. There's an awful lot of thinking that one can do in four hours when he'd rather not be existing. I can't recall all of it, but I know it wasn't very pleasant. I'd always sat on that mattress, cold and alone. This time, however, the loneliness had a great weight. I think it was because of her. The figment, the phantom, the perfect girl carrying herself sweetly between my ears.
At one point, to break out- to break the locked loops of thought that were accelerating through my mind, I picked up my guitar. On my nylon-stringed lover I fingerpicked and strummed my way through Mykel and Carli, My Name is Jonas and Bach's Bouree in E Minor. By this time I'd nearly cracked the chains had permeated my being, and I slid back to the mattress. My thoughts still pounded painfully, but they eventually subsided to a dull ache. When I'd returned to my safety between the sheets, she danced. Oh, how she danced. So I reached out.
I drew her close as I faded out alone in the dark; I held her with me as I slept.
The alarm woke me up. 6:00. Too early. 6:30. Alright. I'll get up, you stupid thing. I made myself a S'more Poptart. I took a nice long shower. Teeth were brushed, and glasses were cleaned. My father graciously drove me to the school. Too early. I had ten more minutes in which to sit alone on a bench with the thoughts in my head. This is never a pleasant prospect, but it's even worse when I'm nervous. I was definitely nervous. The familiar Mullen's School of Driving car pulled up into the familiar school nurse parking space, and I was pleased to see that my instructor was Bruce. He got into his seat, I got into the driver's seat. I adjusted the things that needed to be adjusted, and off we went. Driving is incredible. If you haven't tried it yet, I highly recommend it. Getting a driver's license is without a doubt the most significant milestone for a boy my age. Well, besides loss of virginity. Driving is easier, anyway.
There were no major incidents. I forgot that I was in reverse or park a few times, but nothing that could've ended seriously. I enjoyed the two hours thoroughly. We returned to the school and I couldn't help but feel more than a little joyful. Bruce signed the blue paper which stated that I had completed the 30 hours of classroom instruction, the 10 hours of road instruction, and that I had passed the written test. I thanked him and said goodbye in my own awkward way.
'Thanks. It's been fun. I mean, well, not so much for you probably, but I enjoyed it.'
'Well, there were days... there were days when wondered why I was doing it, but that wasn't your doing. Drive safe.'
I wasn't sure how to take his reply. As little as I knew about him, I couldn't help but feel a little sorry for him. I soon sent away for my permit, which I will probably receive within a week or so. As long as I drive, I hope I never forget Bruce. He was willing to put his life in at least moderate danger everyday to just help adolescents gain a little bit of freedom and to get his salary. I like to think that he ranks quite high on my scale of nobleness.