The World is Mine

Alex V. was home finally. He had just traveled across America in a tractor trailer, crossed the Rockies and explored the West Coast on his motorcycle that had been broken down for months prior to this spontaneous road trip. His bike broke down several times and from New Orleans up to Pennsylvania he fasted for five days while riding on the back of his unreliable bike. He just wanted to be home, but his spirit would not rest for long. In two weeks, he claimed as he lit up the blunt I had shabbily rolled, he would fly to Thailand and begin his training for the French Foreign Legion. Ever since he came back home he began to realize why he left in the first place. Him and his girl, who happened to be my roommate, were constantly ending their nights in heated arguments but resolving them temporarily with sex no doubt.

He passed the blunt, turned my radio up louder, and closed his eyes. As I took the dutchie I smiled at him. He looked so happy. The wind was refreshing on this oddly hot day in the middle of spring. Spring as many know in PA is more like an extension of winter. It's been known to snow in April, where in other states flowers are already blooming and the thought of snow days are forgotten.

My lungs filled with the wonderful piney swirl of smoke and my nerves relaxed. Thoughts which normally flew by in my head like jet planes slowed down to speed I could enjoy. The world seemed perfect for a moment, but as I drove around with no destination in mind, as I saw the passing signs of stores, I knew deep down I was stuck in this pit called Reading. I have many friends here, I thought, but why am I still here? Right, school. At least I'd be getting my associate's degree soon and I could get the fuck out of here. Head to Philly and finish up my schooling in Temple.

As I passed the blunt back to Alex I noticed he had found my permanent marker on the floor of the passenger side. He uncapped the marker and began to write something on the inside of his left forearm, using the side mirror to guide the lines and letters.

Street lights were green, some yellow, others red. Lefts. Rights. Exploring Reading and Muhlenberg like we used to do on our days off on Fridays.

The marker landed on the floor in which it had originally rested. He grinned, passed me the blunt, and showed me what he wrote. Backwards and only readable in a mirror, were the words "The world is mine".

And it was.

He quit his job. He traveled across America. He was going to Thailand. Nothing seemed to hold him back from his dreams.

What were my dreams? I thought. Get a degree, join the peace corps, move to Australia to pursue a love interest of mine that might not be there by the time I got there. Uncertainty gripped me, but my high held my head above the waters of depression.

We were just two stoned kids riding in a car fueled by gas I couldn't afford.

He passed me the dutch, I took a couple hits, and contemplated about life.

Where was I really going? Where did I want to go? How could I get there? What was this world? Why did I want so badly to leave it? Was there ever a reason to live in the first place? Do I need a reason to live? Do I need a reason to die?

Puff, puff, pass.

The world is mine.

But was it? Could it be?

Only time would tell.

For now, puff puff pass.

For now, enjoy his company.

For now, enjoy the blunt.

For now, enjoy life.

This is where I am. This is where I should be. In time, the world will be mine too. Until then, all I could do was cope. Smoking seemed to be the most effective coping strategy I knew. But I didn't want to become complacent. I didn't want to become a burnout.

And I wouldn't be. I am not a burnout.

I am going to go to Australia.

I no longer will follow the path that society has laid before me. Fuck college. Fuck 9 - 5 jobs. I'll continue to count inventories from sundown to sunup. I'll continue to pursue that love interest.

Because guess what?

The world is mine too.