It’s almost dark!

I’ve been staring at these particular bushes for about an hour, trying to decide what to do. Will I be a different person afterwards? Will anything change? Are there toads around here?

It’s kind of exciting.

The cool thing about being alone is nobody can stop you from doing dumb and weird stuff. I can sleep in some bushes if I want. It will be an experience. I can sleep in there and most likely nobody would even know. I’ll probably wake up quite a few times—maybe with some dirt on my face and a bug crawling in my ear—but that’s nothing.

There’s a spider in my place right now, anyway. What difference does it make if I sleep in my bed or in some bushes? It makes pretty much no difference.

About every five minutes, the excitement wears off for a moment, and I think about going home and eating three croissants in a row. But then I think about how they were discounted because of the use-by date and they probably won’t even be that nice.

“I’m going to sleep in those bushes,” I say to a nearby pigeon.

I glance at the pigeon to make sure he approves. He certainly does.

“Right. Right!”

I’ve had this fantasy for years, and now it’s finally happening. I leap up from the bench, grab my backpack, and glance around to make sure nobody is looking. It’s pretty quiet at this time of night, even though there’s still light. There is a guy throwing a frisbee to another guy in the distance. For some reason I’m amused that the frisbee is the same pink as his shorts, even though that’s not that funny.

An earthy smell fills my nose as I pull back a branch and crawl into my hidey-hole, which is surprisingly spacious. I reach into my backpack and retrieve my picnic mat, which I fold over itself to create a bed. The bedding is my actual bedding, but just one pillow instead of two.

Normally I like one under my head and one to cuddle.

I lay down eagerly, thinking what a fantastic spot I’ve picked. I can stretch out completely without anything jabbing into me, and the ground beneath is surprisingly smooth. Nobody could see in unless they really tried, and I doubt anyone is that interested in some random bushes.

It’s warm.

How exciting!

As the world outside darkens, I enjoy the sound of insects and birds saying goodbye for the day. Every now and then I hear a rustling sound a bit further away, but somehow my particular set of bushes isn’t a hotspot.

It must be nearly 10PM by now. I could look at my phone, but I’m sick of my phone–I don’t even want to feel it in my hand. So I just guess that it’s nearly 10PM.

I wonder if at some point I’ll realise I’m doing something crazy, pack up, and head home. Those croissants are on the table. I keep waiting for that moment when I decide I need to go home and eat them, but it doesn’t come. I feel like I’m doing the exact right thing.

I’m the most adventurous person ever!

Maybe this is my delayed party phase. Maybe I’ll do this every night. Maybe I’ll ditch my place and just live in the park and be friends with the birds and bugs.

That would be a very cheap party phase.

As I drift towards sleep, I feel like everything is happening now, but for whatever reason I can only experience one moment at a time, in a linear fashion. I think while I’m lying here in these bushes in total silence, we’re also meeting in the park at midnight. Not this park—it was a different park a long time ago (but also now) and I was/am SO thrilled. And I’m also excited at the airport, walking on stage, feeding my favourite pigeons, uploading a YouTube video, trying to dig a pool in the backyard without anyone noticing, getting scared at my brothers doing that face I hate but it’s also funny, roaming the creepy hallways of an old hotel at 2AM, buying a Walkman, fainting in the bathroom, and getting picked up from school on the most disgustingly humid afternoon ever.

At some point I find myself wondering what percentage of the population are serial killers. The thought of serial killers puts me to sleep, which seems pretty common these days.

In the morning I wake up with a spider on my hand—a spider that looks similar to the one in my place, except more dangerous. This should make me flinch and yelp, but instead I stare at the spider, wondering if it’s planning on biting me.

“Are you a serial killer?” I ask.

The spider doesn’t say anything.

I’m not scared. And it’s not just that I’m not scared of the spider, but I’m not scared of anything.


The End
(I didn’t really sleep in some bushes [but I could if I wanted to])