"I shouldn't be here." I tell myself. Standing outside the bar, garish neon lights blinking slowly in my face, I shiver and almost leave. It's loud inside – people laughing and a blare of music trying to drown everyone out. I'm standing about 15 feet away by a dead lamp post. Watching. A somewhat steady stream of people in and out, various states of dress. Various types. Nice, casual, punk, grimy – all kinds.
I just turned 21. I'm going. Fuck my parents. Fuck the Church and fuck everyone else. All I've known my entire life is what I shouldn't do. How I should act. How I should be starting to think about settling down with some pretty girl and thinking about a family. Too goddamned young if you ask me. I'm on winter break from school, staying with my parents and couldn't stand another night listening to them natter on about responsibilities and what's expected of me.