Runaway Car

**Written a while ago but I like it**

I should like to do what I have always done. I should like to slip into a seat covered in old cloth, smelling of memories and actions past. As ever before, I would place the key gently into the ignition and with a turn, begin a journey that would in turn cause a new change in my path. In the face of uncertainty, this metal transportation has sustained me. For every bout of anger and every wash of tears, it has been my cocoon, my safe haven. Every doubt has shown a different road to travel down; maps unfolding before me in an orchestrated brilliance. But now, my heart pounds within my chest and sitting alone, my fingers curl to clutch a steering wheel that is not there. I know this feeling. Uncertainty guided by small words from every corner. Everything they say revolves in my head. Everything that has been said, be it truth or lie, a minor comment or a life-changing story, twists in knots behind my eyelids. With a heavy sigh, my thoughts yearn to unfold and explain but I don’t understand.

Within a walled mind, I sit silently and wonder when I will really be able to come out and face everything. There is more to share that no one has heard. More that exists only in my nightmares and some in my smiling dreams. But to escape it all, oh! What a wonder that would be. Yet I know that mere distance on a paved lane will not erase any of it. It will not erase where I am now, but instead shove it beneath the others that I have run from. Beneath a savagely beating heart lie bodies of error infinite.

Even to those few who should choose to read this words spilling beneath chipped fingernails, I should not be speaking. But I can’t leave it to rot within like before. I cannot place all of my belongings in my little car and drive away as I have done. It would be so easy to blindfold my sight of the past but one could never learn in that manner. Had I truly blinded myself from that which made me, I would be lost. I would not know what love was. I would not know what hurt was. I would have forgotten the pain of grief and the joy of discovery. Through the eyes of others, I have seen worlds unknown and feelings captured only through actions. Should I be the one to feel such, surely I would not have this desire to flee.

But to flee has always been my calling. To flee from the known and drive to the unknown, seeking more knowledge, seeking more chances to find…. To find something. To find something that is worth staying in the ungrateful grip of humanity. Crying to others to know that there is more to life but words from my lips are but hollow repetitions. How can I claim to feel so much for life when in fact, every night I return to an empty shell. Moments where I truly question if I am suffering sociopathic tendencies. I wonder if I am here for anything at all besides existing. Are you here for something more than a mere existence? Should I sit and ask someone what they are here for, a moment of hesitation is guaranteed and then… bullshit. We all question our meaning and our purpose. Tonight is one of those nights that I question the purpose. I don’t need a meaning in life. I need a purpose to continue for. I’m not crying for assistance, I’m not threatening to quash out the flickering light that is me. I’m simply asking what is the purpose behind my actions? What is the purpose behind me staying in this concrete jungle. This concrete jungle that causes hatred beyond reason. As I walk out that door and into daily life, every vein runs hot with a despicable taint. This concrete jungle that I sought to run from so fervently and that which I have promised my life for at least another six months.

Why can I not just get in my car and drive away? It was so easy but now, now my heart is pausing and saying hold on. But why? I don’t want to hold on. I have held on for months now and all it has led to is daily encouragement to hold out another day. Explain to me why I should hold on when everything I dream of lies beyond these city limits.


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