dim the lights.

I'm climbing that hill again. That steep, epic hill towards this final state of content. Something I usually achieve around December. It's this place where I can't really describe the feeling. It's this constant free fall feeling that never seems to go away. This feeling of invincibility that makes my thoughts float endlessly through the November sky.
I say November because that's when this normally starts. But this year, it's earlier. This year- it's different.
Lately I've been caught on my laptop in dark spaces of the house. I seem to blend in, as if I'm wearing some drywall for camouflage, sitting with my headphones and whatever else seems to follow me that day. The rain and gray air have contributed to my placid and relaxed feelings. Growing more reminiscent each and every day, much earlier than usually intended. And everything seems to jog my memory, from the cologne in a jacket sleeve, to the music on a forgotten playlist. A sudden text from a friend you hadn't seen in months. Talking about missing you and everyone else back home. It makes you wonder. Even finding things out about people you thought you knew. Things that make you even closer than what you may have initially thought you'd end up being.
I guess that brings up another point. I've recently been introduced to another feeling of life: detachment. No, friends, I'm not going dark on you. I've just felt so busy, and having a car really gives you so much more opportunity to be away from the people you know and love. When I unlock the door to my house I realize that I'm alone. I've never experienced this. I've always been surrounded by people. And now I've found solitude some days after school. Time to stretch my thoughts up and out. Time to ponder what I shouldn't be thinking about. Things that make me think a little too much. Things that make me so nervous, I require a short glass of chocolate milk and animal crackers.
Because these things have become my comfort food when the light in the kitchen turns yellow. When it gets much too late on a Saturday night. When there's a thick soundtrack of snoring and a variety of other house-sounds in the background. When I can sit and sigh and stare. And then go back to sleep.
So far, things are going smoothly. Not all as planned. But very smoothly. I guess when you start getting older, and realizing that you'll be leaving soon, you start to notice the little things you took for granted and passed over before. And I'm stumbling over these things, good and bad, that I'm being told are growing me up and opening my eyes to an adult world that I once misunderstood.
I'll be quiet and robotic until November rolls around. I have bouts of laughter and smiling, angst and defeat. That's for now. But when those skies grow wispy, jackets out and eyes above, I'll crack the biggest smile and take the deepest breath of the purest air I wait forever to fill my lungs. The dusty winter air that bleeds back into the atmosphere as thin rings of smoke.
Until then, I'll be racing to December's light.