When: 15 November 2005
Where: Lake Station
At the end of October you were happy just to be able to wear a jacket. Aside from Thanksgiving, November in Southern California had no personality to speak of. That is, until I was old enough to go out in the dark.
It was after a particularly damning trek home that I found myself exiting Lake Station in total darkness– black skies, no stars, none but the homeless wandering about– and in the midst of listening to this song I began to replay the year in my head. The endless storm that nearly cost me my sanity. The labored infatuation I destroyed in the process. The girlfriend I tried to steal from a friend before someone else did. The many classes I’d nearly failed before rescuing myself at the last minute. The massive fight I’d started.
I began to wonder what horrible trouble I would get myself into in the year to come. I was accustomed to being short, weak, unsocialized, and humorless; and that November it didn’t once occurred to me that I wasn’t even like that anymore. I was tall, strong, nice. People liked me. I’d even developed the ability to make jokes on the spot. People liked having me around.
On the verge of turning sixteen, it was as if I had become a real, full person. But who was he? And what was his name?