Last week I found myself partaking in superficial conversations, cigarette smoking, and too many cocktails named after me. There was no lack of good manners or good will, but at the bar I am a stranger in a strange land. Who knows, maybe everyone is.
At 2:00 a.m., as I walked home with someone I'd only met hours before, I asked myself: What am I doing, what do I expect, what do I want? And as I climbed his stairs, made my way through the hall and watched as he opened the door, I knew I was not exactly where I wanted to be, but would discover days later I was exactly where I needed to be.
With no interest in punishing myself for the obvious foolishness of going home with a man I didn't know, a man who possibly placed little if any value on me at all, I turned around and walked home.
There was a darkness in that night and in the nights that followed, but I understand that even when I'm making wrong choices, they are also right choices. Sometimes I have to dabble in what doesn't shine to be reminded where the light lives, and sometimes it takes a walk down a deserted street, through an unfriendly world of my own creation, to return me to the bright side where I know I belong.