OK. I gave up on everything. I'm just going to do the pages the same, only keep them out of frames unless you deliberately select frames.
And I have an appointment at 9:00 AM, and I should already be gone.
..be gone.
I keep telling myself, 'I'm exactly where I am supposed to be, I'm exactly where I am supposed to be'.
I went to the fire scene. There was all the professional news media--one of them even asked to interview me, but I said no. Actually, I couldn't speak, I just shook my head. There was also all the fire department 'groupies', they usually bring cameras to fires, but they all are in love with everything associated with the fire service. I remember them from when I was a firefighter. Back then, they made me love the job even more; I felt priviledged, and I was. But back then, I really didn't know it. I got glimpses on occasion of how good it was, but that awareness kept slipping away.
Maybe we are always where we are supposed to be; I think that may be true, but most of the time I am only aware of it in glimpses. And most of the time, I want to be somewhere else. I didn't want to go to the fire scene, because I don't like wanting to be somewhere else, and I knew that feeling would only get worse there. I want to still be a firefighter.
It doesn't matter where we are, it really doesn't. I felt so good back then... but everything is really still the same. I am not a firefighter anymore, but still, just like then, I lose awareness all the time of 'now', and of how good it is. I have always been just trying to escape, and get away from me.
I looked up at the only windows on the side I faced, about thirty feet up. Through them I could see the top of the smoldering rubble inside the building's shell, a smoking pile of broken beams and joists and collapsed floors and walls thirty feet deep--whithin which still lies buried five pairs of boots, five canvas coats, five air-packs and five masks, five helmets, and the bodies of five firefighters. It was the best job on earth.
|
|
|