Walking On Water

  There is very little that distinguishes the changing of seasons in Louisiana.  The fall will bring with it a light breeze that only diminishes the humidity slightly.  The air is slightly less thick, and the stickiness of sweat on the skin is lessoned.  But for Billy, and so many others, the only way to tell that fall is here is by the sounds of football.  Every year its arrival is anticipated, and is talked about year round.  The players are revered like living gods and their exploits marveled at.

  Billy missed the changing of the season this year.  He missed the pageantry of college football and the mystique of playing under the lights.  While the others were making their dreams come true, Billy was slowly sliding into the depths of despair.

  He had not dressed out for the season opener because of his injury.  While all the talk of the school was about the highlights of the game and how exciting it was, Billy's only thoughts were how to get rid of his hangovers, or where he could score his next bag.

  He found himself increasingly isolated and alone in his world.  He no longer had the hopes and dreams he had apsired when he arrived on the campus only three short months ago.  He had slipped out of the academic realm since the university was so large, and he was only a social security number anyway.

  The basis of his daily living was to sleep through the day and prowl around maniacally in the evening going to clubs or hanging out at friend's apartments doing drugs.  It now fit him like a glove, this new lifestyle of his, and whenever the painful realities of everday life intruded.  The lifestyle was there to protect him and keep him safe.