The Night I Stopped Negotiating With Myself

It started the way these things usually do, with me standing in front of the closet at 8pm telling myself it was probably too late to leave, the venue was probably too loud, I probably wouldn't know anyone. All the usual arguments.

I went anyway. I don't even remember making a final decision, exactly. I just stopped having the argument and put on my shoes. There was a live music thing at this small bar I'd walked past probably forty times without going in, the kind of place with mismatched stools and a sound system that hums when the bass hits, which I mean as a compliment. I got there and sat at the far end of the bar and nobody talked to me and it was genuinely perfect.

I stayed two hours longer than I planned. There were maybe three acts, or maybe it was the same person cycling through different tempos, I'm honestly not sure. The last song stuck in my head on the whole walk home and I still cannot figure out what it was. I didn't write anything down, which is very on-brand for me to regret immediately.

somewhere between the second and third song

The thing about going somewhere alone is that you end up paying attention differently. Nobody to check in with, no split focus. I kept noticing small things, the way the amber lights caught everyone's glasses, the bartender mouthing along to a song she'd clearly heard four times already that week. The mother-post is still sitting out there doing whatever it's doing and I haven't looked at it since Tuesday. Maybe that's why going out felt so uncomplicated. The apartment has been very loud lately, in the way apartments get when you've been inside your own head for too long.

the walk home part