I remembered this one time that I never told anyone about. The time we were walking. Just the three of us. And I was in the middle. I don’t remember where and I don’t remember when. I don’t even remember the season. I just remember walking between them and feeling for the first time that I belonged somewhere.

So I got home about 15 minutes ago.  Where I live, that’s about 2:05 am (EST).  I was not drinking.  We were not doing anything with a specific purpose in mind, just driving around aimlessly.  And then we decided, like we always do, that it was time to go be infinite.

I know that I’ve written about this before and I  mention it all the time, but there are just some things in your life that you feel like sharing, and this is one of those things.

My favorite book is The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky.  I have a relationship with two people that are very special to me that is akin to the relationship between Charlie, Sam, and Patrick in that novel.  And when we get bored or reunite after a long time of not seeing each other, we go and be infinite.  Being infinite means following the guidelines set out in this portion of Chbosky’s novel:

There’s something about that tunnel that leads to downtown. It’s glorious at night. Just glorious. You start on one side of the mountain, and it’s dark, and the radio is loud. As you enter the tunnel, the wind gets sucked away, and you squint from the lights overhead. When you adjust to the lights, you can see the other side in the distance just as the sound of the radio fades because the waves just can’t reach. Then, you’re in the middle of the tunnel, and everything becomes a calm dream. As you see the opening get closer, you just can’t get there fast enough. And finally, just when you think you’ll never get there, you see the opening right in front of you. And the radio comes back even louder than you remember it. And the wind is waiting. And you fly out of the tunnel onto the bridge. And there it is. The city. A million lights and buildings and everything seems as exciting as the first time you saw it. It really is a grand entrance.

And do you know what you see on the other side of that tunnel?  Home.

In the novel, this passage refers to coming through the Fort Pitt Tunnel and seeing the city of Pittsburgh on the other side.  My two best friends and I have done this no less than four times with various people and various songs playing in the background, most notably Lady Gaga’s The Edge of Glory.

I know that I talk a good game about wanting to leave the city of Pittsburgh and move to London or wherever.  And I know that somewhere deep inside of me, I will probably do that someday.  Maybe for a long period of time, maybe for a month, but the thing is, I will never stop feeling the way about those lights as I do every time I see them, glimmering in the water of the three rivers as my two best friends and I, wind whipping our hair around or heat blasting so much that it feels like the dessert, singing at the top of our lungs or quietly absorbing the scene, come through that tunnel.

Yes, our sole purpose for driving into the city at all hours of the night and wee hours of the morning is so that we can take exit 69 A, turn around, and come back through that tunnel to see our city, bright and shining, exactly the way that Charlie describes it.  And do you know what?  There’s nothing like it in the whole world.  There is nothing like seeing the only place that has ever been home lit up spectacularly.  There is nothing like laughing with the two people in the world who know you better than anyone else.  There is nothing like sharing a moment over and over again and still feeling the same way as you did the first time.

I will always love Pittsburgh.  And I will always love Perks.  And no matter where life takes us or what separates us in the future, I will always love my Charlie and my Patrick and the way that they make me feel infinite every time that we’re together.