I need a vacation

"I think I need a change."
"I understand." I think I really did, until...
"Lets get out of here. Lets blow this popsicle stand. You and me, we'll go to So-Cal together, L.A. or somewhere....fuck."
"?"
"Where are our lives going, you know? Fuck class man."
"Yeah, I agree."
"I think I'm becoming border-line schizophrenic. I'm fucking losing it, man, fucking losing it. You understand?"
"yep"
"Will you...will you visit me in the crazy house?"
"Yeah, man."
"Good. And bring some bitches, bitches and beer. Don't forget that. Remember the bitches and beer. Shit, you wanna get drunk tonight? Get fuuuuuucked up. Lets get some people together. You down?"
~A conversation between Brian L. and myself.
I think it pretty much defines what we, as juniors this year and getting into the "tail-end" of college and leaving the "happiest time of our lives", feel.
We're fucking losing it.
"I wanna get smashed tonight." He says.
"You got my number." I say. And I'm debating it because, till today, I'd been drunk for four days straight and didn't want to be excessive.
"You know, numb the emotion. There's too much emotion, you understand?"
"yep"
"Or get the fuck out of here, I have a friend in Colorodo, I could marry her. Live there, get out of this shit hole."
"I've never been to Colorodo," I say, "I have a friend there too."
How many times have we thought about the what-ifs in our lives?
How many times have we wanted to mix things up?
The two of us are talking about our weekend and he's explaining something that makes me remember another instance.
:
I'm running, sprinting, getting the fuck out of a house that just got busted by the cops. One of my friends had jumped out the window, another had gone out the back door and somehow gotten through a police net that was rounding us up. Another friend and I had stayed a little longer to see how things would turn out, then decided that we didn't need to go to the tank that night.
I've never been to the tank. My other two friends, though, had. That must be why they bolted so quickly.
Guess its not a fun place.
Anyways, so, we're outside running, sprinting, the cold night blistering our face and the darkness all around tripping us and for some reason, of all the things, I'm thinking about the what-ifs.
What if I get caught?
What if he gets caught?
Whats gonna happen when I turn around and get cuffed with him out of principle for our friendship?
What am I doing at this party, it's not even that great?
I'm not that drunk.
Why do I drink?
Why am I running through the cold?
I should have applied to a school with a warmer climate.
Why did I join up with these people?
Why did I quit?
What is She doing right now?
What if She's running from the cops too?
That would be cool, but unprobable. What if I'd never bought these shoes? What If I had dressed up? Where am I going now? Where am I going to sleep? Am I hungary? I need a drink. What does it take to get a drink in this place? What if I had a flask? Then it wouldn't be so cold. What if I had never met these people, where would I be? Shit, I need to be in class tomorrow, what if my major is wrong? What if my life is wrong? What if this is all wrong? Am I on the right path? Where am i going? Shit, its too dark to see. What if I don't make it there? What if I do? What if I'm alone when I get there? What can I do? What do I do? What should I do? What will I do? What if I'm not alone when I get there?
ahhh, there it is, optimisim.
I'm not alone now.
Why worry about then?
Shit, flashing lights, red and blue. What to do, what to do?
We're moving fast through the grass and I'm thinking about you.
I wonder what you're doing right now. Probably NOT running from the cops.
My phone rings and I hope its you. Fuck it, never is.
"Yeah," I say.
"Where are you?" He says.