The Ride Home

I drive through these streets, pretending that I once owned them, knew them, or at the very least tread on the pavement before. I realize though, through the drops falling aboove me as I stay neatly tucked inside my aluminum shell, I was never here before; I lie to myself constantly, hoping that one day I will wake up and it will all be the truth. I can't fathom this existence the way it actually is, so my imagination must fill in the gaps with something, anything, to give me hope that this isn't all that I am. Self-realization is not new to me; I go through this like a menstrual cycle, constantly understanding what I am, what I've become, then shedding it; purging myself until I come to the next, creating a new day. I think it will be a different realization each time, but I always come to the same conclusion despite all my efforts.

I don't know how to handle people at all, especially not myself. I truly want to be someone who is well-known, respected, admired even. But I really am just a reclusive person who trusts nobody and will probably die alone, unhappy with the outcome but pleased with my ability to unwittingly keep everyone at bay. Sometimes I want to break down and cry, but where? When? Sometimes the pain from my past hurts so much that it blind-sides me as it has at this moment, bringing me to my knees. I want to cry for help yet bury my head at the same time, for I am a contradiction above all else. I struggle with myself almost daily, even though it will only be me in the end; so who am I really fighting? I know that some will read this and be concerned, offer words of encouragement, or simply attempt to give comfort. But I have no need for comfort; no use for encouragement. I am self-driven and self-destructive.

I am getting to that point again where I need to turn around and figure out where I am headed. These streets are so unfamiliar, I need to stop and ask for directions. But I'll keep driving in circles, watching everyone else move forward, and wonder what it's like to be special; to know where I'm going. At least I have a general idea of where I'm headed. However, no matter which direction I'm facing, I still have to ride with the same person. I never really liked him before, and I certainly don't care much for him now, but I'm stuck with him forever.