into the city, and I have to tell you that there are so many weirdos in the city that by the time I made it home, I was actually feeling glad I made it back at all.
I was wearing jeans and desert boots and I’d had a shower in the morning and actually washed my hair. As I walked I still felt it sticking up in that uncontrollable way, as if it was out to expose me. Still, I felt okay about being clean.
Maybe the old man’s right,
I thought to myself.
All that carryin’ on he goes on with about us bein’ dirty and a disgrace … I guess it feels okay to be clean.
The usual shops crept back from me as I went past. Milk bar places. Fish ‘n’ chips. I also walked past a barbershop and there was a bald guy in there cutting at a guy’s locks with a kind of ferocity that scared me. I always see something like that — some kind of molestation of ahuman being that can only make me trip or lose my footing with grim surprise. Or fidget with discomfort. That day, I remember it made me try to persuade my hair down, but it was up again right away.
All up, the day and the walk weren’t the success or rejuvenation I had been looking for.
I kept walking.
Have you ever done that?
Just walk.
Just walk and have no idea where you’re going?
It wasn’t a good feeling, but not a bad one either. I felt caged and free at the same time, like it was only myself that wouldn’t allow me to feel either great or miserable. As normal, traffic echoed around me, adding to the sense of not belonging anywhere. Nothing was fixed. Everything was moving. Turning into something. Exactly like me.
Since when did I have something for a girl in my gut?
Since when did I care about my sister and wt was happening in her life?
Since when did I bother caring about the contents of Rube’s mind?
Since when did I listen to Success Story Steve and care about whether he looked down at me or not?
Since when did I walk aimlessly around? Walking, almost prowling, through the streets?
Then it hit me.
I was alone.
I was alone.
No denying it.
I was certain.
See, I was never a guy who had a whole heap of friends to belong to. Besides Greg Fienni, I never really had friends. I kind of stayed on my own. I hated it, but I was proud of it too. Cameron Wolfe needed no one. He didn’t need to be amongst a pack. Not all of us roam like that. No, all he needed was his instincts. All he needed was himself, and he could survive backyard boxing matches, robbery missions, and any other shame that came down the alley. So why was I feeling so strange now?
Let’s be honest.
It had to be the girl.
It had to.
No.
It was everything. This was my life. Getting complicated.
My life, and as I walked along the hurrying street, I saw sky above me. I saw buildings, crummy flats, a grimy cigar shop, another barber, electric wires, rubbish in gutters. A derelict asked me for cash but I had none. There was city all around me, breathing in and out like the lungs of a smoker.
Almost instantly, I stopped walking when I knew that all the good feeling had vanished from me. Maybe it slipped out of me and was given to the derelict. Maybeit disappeared somewhere in my stomach and I didn’t even notice. All there was now was this anxiety I couldn’t explain. What a sight. What a feeling. This was terrible: a skinny kid standing, alone. That was the bottom line. Alone, and I didn’t feel equipped to handle it. Very suddenly. Yes, quite suddenly, I didn’t feel like I could handle my feeling of aloneness.
Was this how it was always going to be?
Would I always live with this kind of self-doubt, and doubt for the civilization around me? Would I always feel so small that it hurt and that even the greatest outcry roaring from my throat was, in reality, just a whimper? Would my footsteps always stop so suddenly and sink into the footpath?
Would I always?
Would I? Would?
This was terrible, but I dug my feet from out of the footpath and continued walking.
Don’t think,
I told
I was wearing jeans and desert boots and I’d had a shower in the morning and actually washed my hair. As I walked I still felt it sticking up in that uncontrollable way, as if it was out to expose me. Still, I felt okay about being clean.
Maybe the old man’s right,
I thought to myself.
All that carryin’ on he goes on with about us bein’ dirty and a disgrace … I guess it feels okay to be clean.
The usual shops crept back from me as I went past. Milk bar places. Fish ‘n’ chips. I also walked past a barbershop and there was a bald guy in there cutting at a guy’s locks with a kind of ferocity that scared me. I always see something like that — some kind of molestation of ahuman being that can only make me trip or lose my footing with grim surprise. Or fidget with discomfort. That day, I remember it made me try to persuade my hair down, but it was up again right away.
All up, the day and the walk weren’t the success or rejuvenation I had been looking for.
I kept walking.
Have you ever done that?
Just walk.
Just walk and have no idea where you’re going?
It wasn’t a good feeling, but not a bad one either. I felt caged and free at the same time, like it was only myself that wouldn’t allow me to feel either great or miserable. As normal, traffic echoed around me, adding to the sense of not belonging anywhere. Nothing was fixed. Everything was moving. Turning into something. Exactly like me.
Since when did I have something for a girl in my gut?
Since when did I care about my sister and wt was happening in her life?
Since when did I bother caring about the contents of Rube’s mind?
Since when did I listen to Success Story Steve and care about whether he looked down at me or not?
Since when did I walk aimlessly around? Walking, almost prowling, through the streets?
Then it hit me.
I was alone.
I was alone.
No denying it.
I was certain.
See, I was never a guy who had a whole heap of friends to belong to. Besides Greg Fienni, I never really had friends. I kind of stayed on my own. I hated it, but I was proud of it too. Cameron Wolfe needed no one. He didn’t need to be amongst a pack. Not all of us roam like that. No, all he needed was his instincts. All he needed was himself, and he could survive backyard boxing matches, robbery missions, and any other shame that came down the alley. So why was I feeling so strange now?
Let’s be honest.
It had to be the girl.
It had to.
No.
It was everything. This was my life. Getting complicated.
My life, and as I walked along the hurrying street, I saw sky above me. I saw buildings, crummy flats, a grimy cigar shop, another barber, electric wires, rubbish in gutters. A derelict asked me for cash but I had none. There was city all around me, breathing in and out like the lungs of a smoker.
Almost instantly, I stopped walking when I knew that all the good feeling had vanished from me. Maybe it slipped out of me and was given to the derelict. Maybeit disappeared somewhere in my stomach and I didn’t even notice. All there was now was this anxiety I couldn’t explain. What a sight. What a feeling. This was terrible: a skinny kid standing, alone. That was the bottom line. Alone, and I didn’t feel equipped to handle it. Very suddenly. Yes, quite suddenly, I didn’t feel like I could handle my feeling of aloneness.
Was this how it was always going to be?
Would I always live with this kind of self-doubt, and doubt for the civilization around me? Would I always feel so small that it hurt and that even the greatest outcry roaring from my throat was, in reality, just a whimper? Would my footsteps always stop so suddenly and sink into the footpath?
Would I always?
Would I? Would?
This was terrible, but I dug my feet from out of the footpath and continued walking.
Don’t think,
I told
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