Love

Chapter 7

It's still not done, but I felt like I needed to update it. 

Sorry...

I start school next week, and Tori and I have been "going steady" for about two months. I mean it's awesome... being with someone and all, but I'm not sure what this means–for Tori, for me, for us, or our future–I don't want to stress about a relationship during my first semester in college (especially with distance in the way), but I don't want to hurt Tori; I don't know what this means. I'm just so confused

He couldn't sleep. And when Brennan couldn't sleep he would go for a drive, and when he went for a drive he always ended up at the same place...

His legs dangled over the side of a concrete structure– at least what was left of one–he was sitting on what was the result of an abandoned and neglected town dam. His legs swayed back and forth unconsciously: bouncing slightly off the wall of the dam and swaying back up again.

The dam was a great addition to the town, about fifty years ago–it held water for the three neighboring counties back in its prime–but as it sat the was far from its prime. Now it was a crumbling piece of cement that many citizens would consider a tomb that the town was too poor or too lazy to tear down, but to Brennan, it was an escape. He would come here anytime he was bored, upset, couldn't think, or just needed to get out of the house; and it was a beautiful place to escape to.

Everyone needs a place to escape to. A place just for them. A place where they can go and be at peace; alone. And when you find that place–your sanctuary, your temple– you don't tell a soul, because that place, wherever it is belongs to you; it's yours, and yours alone.

It wasn't beautiful in the traditional sense–it was a run down and trite monastery that once resembled a dam–but what it lacked in aesthetic appeal, it made up for in the view it had to offer. Those who sat atop of the Hollywood Hills, or in the mountains of Vermont would sneer at such a view, but to Brennan it was the best view there was. Because it was his, it was his view and his alone.

Brennan nonchalantly glanced down at his swaying feet, unfazed by the fact that he was sitting 685ft above the ground and that the only thing stopping him from falling was his own common sense and balance.

He pondered the thought about falling; contemplating how long it would take once you left the seated position atop of the dam to become a large, human sized pancake on the ground below.

Well if I weigh 185lbs and the acceleration of a mass on earth is 32feet per second and it's nearly 700 feet up it would take me... pfft! Like I don't like somewhere around 21 seconds... What if you regret falling or jumping in that time? Like wait, no, I don't want to do this anymo-splat

Having briefly pondered his own mortality, his eyes narrowed straight ahead at the oncoming sun, it had just begun to crest hills in the distance.

Sitting between him and those hills were houses and neighborhoods. Your typical middle class homes, all styled nearly identical thanks to the Housing Committee Board. They were either single or two story homes, dressed in white stucco, black shingles, wide single car garage, two long hedges that ran on either side of an awning that protected the front door, and under the window sills. It was all pretty standard, boring stuff.

And residing in those identical homes were people. People that were doused in a deep slumber filling the space with a desolate silence that encompassed the land for miles, leaving Brennan alone; alone in complete silence, with nothing more than his raging thoughts, and it was GLORIOUS.