Luckily, I'm not standing here during rush hour. No one speeds past. I dash across the road and into the safety of the tunnel.
The next two crossings are relatively calm. There are no crosswalks here, either, but there's no need for one--after all, these roads are never as traffic-filled.
I stop at the bookstore at the corner. They don't have what I'm looking for, so I cross the road to seek out another bookstore. This crosswalk is a particularly stubborn one. When I push the button indicating that I wish to cross the road, the signal still hasn't changed to 'walk'. I look both ways. The road is clear. The choice is obvious.
But I don't run, nor do I walk. I stand, tall and proud, and skip. Nothing could be more natural.
In that moment, nothing else matters. I'm free from everyone and everything that can possibly bother me (except, one could argue, the occasional passing car). Any other bad thoughts of the world escape me when I am skipping across the road in an illegal fashion. All else is lost on me. I am in a place where all is good and perfect. The world suddenly has a new sparkle to it, even more so than it usually does. In that moment, I can do anything.
Some people do drugs or drink or some myriad of other things to achieve that sense of satisfaction. I do math. I write. I jaywalk.
Luckily, I have yet to fight the law because of my love of jaywalking. The day may come. Should it come, I'll stand as proudly as I did when I was crossing the street, for I am not the guilty party.
The guilty are those who can never glimpse that sparkle.
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