on the roof, II

I'm on the roof again, and this time drunk with friends, and Gretel has this song, “Chick Habit”, on repeat, she's avoiding the work she has to do and swinging her long limbs around like a go-go dancer, and as the staccato guitar riff bangs out from inside the window, her arms pump and her legs bend her into a half crouch. She is rarely this attractive. While I watch her I laugh a little, and Maggie and Branson cuddle on the other side of our tarred porch, despite her absent boyfriend and his complexes, despite my, “that girl is trouble” (to him) and my “stay away from my roommate” to her. They are cuddling and I am tired, and Gretel is keeping me entertained, but I go inside anyway and say to myself, "that is weird". I take a pill that has not been prescribed to me. It is an anxiety pill. I turn my computer on to a this American life episode from 1998, and listen to other peoples' failures until they are added to mine and are weighing on me. Other peoples' lives. I have too much empathy tonight. My anti-anxiety pill might be fighting valiantly against this rising tide of worry, but not to the right extent. I turn off the radio, and wonder if Maggie will leave tonight.