I'm Scared

The most amazing thing happened to me two seconds ago. Its actually happening to me right now, this happening is the direct reason why you are reading what I am writing. I found something that scares the nerves straight out of their body.
Now, I am going to admit to some things that I can only admit to anonymously, not because they are evil crimes but because they sound cooler if I tell them to you like that. So knowing that, I'll ask you not to look into who I am, because I'm really the guy who lives next door to you.
I went home one weekend to do something with my parents, I don't know what, but that doesn't matter, the point is that I was waiting for the train to come and I stumbled onto something that I think has completely changed my life. I was actually looking up a train schedule when I saw them laying out in front of me, six packs of unused bottle rockets. They were talking to me, persuading me, uring me to take them back with me on the voyage to my dorm in Chicago. At the last minute, I took three.
It started off small. I'd go out onto our third floor tarrice, hide behind some pilers and light the wick and throw. I never did it to scare anyone, although I was not revolted by that idea at all, I did it to scare myself. To see if I could, to feel adrenaline pump thickly into my blood.
Eventually it became rutein. Boring. Regular. So I shot them with my friends back at the building where they would surely explode in the vicinity of an occupied room, home to a student who was sleeping, as people normally do at 3 AM. I felt it again.
One day, I loaded a bunch in my pockets and we walked the city. It was four or five in the morning, and we were passing an entrance to the red line, which is the subway of Chicago. I went down the first few steps and made it appear that I was urinating as many of the bums do. Out of curiosity, my group of friends walked down with me to see if thats what I was actually doing.
I told them, “You might not want to stand here,” as I lit a bottle rocket and dropped it on the stairs so that it aimed into the subway. They all rain out as the engine ignited and there was a woosh as it shot into the depths of bricks, and a loud, echoy, boom as it detonated. Again, the rush overwhelmed me, not because I knew police would be called, not because CTA workers would be curious about what happened, bu because I was afraid of being caught.
The next big thing was the stairwell in my building. I knew that we could drop a lit rocket from the fifth flood and have it land on the second stairwell where it would explode, and the sound being so confined would echo throughout the bottom floors. I broke off the stick and dropped a lit one. We stood in dead silence as we heard the engine go off, but no explosion. Nothing. I went down a few minutes later to investigate, and it was a dud. Easy fix, got another one and repeated the proses. It was one of the loudest booms I had ever heard, and one of the most intense rushes of excitement, fear and regret I had ever felt.
After that I wanted to play it cool for a while. Security was on the case, no question because I passed them several times discussing what happened. But that was boring. Playing it cool wasn't fun. So I came up with my master plan, executed only a few days ago.
The crew and I went up to the seventh floor, pried open the elevator doors only an inch, I lit the wick and tossed it in. We stood up and coolly walked down the hallway. About half way down, we heard it loud and clear, as the rocket fell seven stories and landed only twenty feet away from security's desk, where it blew up and was no doubt the biggest jump they would have ever experienced.
Conquering my fear yet again, I slipped into the shadows. But here I am.
A few hours ago I came into position of a base ball sized solid rubber ball. Naturally, I wanted to throw it off the tarries, so we went down to check the parking lot to see if it was clear of cars. On the way, I passed a pretty girl.
The lot was clear and my two friends stayed up as I went down to the lot. I got there and we threw the ball a few times. It was pretty boring. It would bounce. On our last throw, my friend thought he could create something crazy, but instead, he threw the ball and it landed on the top of a mini van from three stories up, setting off the alarm in front of at least three security cameras, which witnessed me run over to the ball, catch it and book it.
That wasn't too bad, and yet once again, I had calmed my fears, made it back into the building safely, chastised my silly friend, and hit the tool of destruction. But then something caught my attention, something that I hadn't done before, as depressing as that sounds. That girl in the lounge that I passed, the pretty one who smiled at me. I wanted to meet her.
Hesitating none, I walked down there, entered the room, lap top in hand and as I opened the doors she looked at me. I smiled, a coward swept my body to the opposite side of the room where I felt bored and then wrote this.
So I find it amazing. Amazing that I can do something that can potentially get me arrested, because its a felon to create panic in a crowd, and kicked out of my building and walk away as if nothing happened, but if a pretty girl even looks at me I scream, I run in terror because for some reason I couldn't have her think that I thought she was pretty. I couldn't let her knew that I want to meet her, get to know here, maybe hang out some time. The worst that could happen is that she would say no, and I'd never see her again, and I don't even have the guts to go say, “Hi, my name's !@#, you want to hang out some time?”
But then again thats in all of us, I guess. Its another tier of fear and another chain of curage I need to face. Its something that we all over come as a challenge and I have yet to do it. Maybe I should right now, maybe I will. I'm looking at her as I type these words. Thats kind of creepy, but its also kind of beautiful.