It was all I could do to keep my foot on the accelerator. Thoughts buzzed in my brain, senseless and indecipherable. At this point, I couldn’t remember a time when this now familiar fog had ever been lifted.
Surely things had been simpler at some point. The truth is, I had grown up much faster than planned and hit the ground running. I had this grand scheme, like that of many of my peers, to throw myself into a completely new world and just handle it, like that had always been my personality. I had been convinced by those in authority that I possessed some super-power raw instinct and was now kicking myself for that little lapse in judgment. How can you be so applauded for diving headfirst into the deep end and so quickly ridiculed for jumping right out?
I always drifted into a sort of daze on these drives. The passing pavement, stereo on the verge of bursting, chased my thoughts back to the house I’d just reluctantly left. I always seemed to be in transit. My life had become solely centered around coming and going. There was nothing else. Once I met my destination, I was then preoccupied with my next departure, and vise versa. I had foolishly once believed it was possible to just be. The thought was purely humorous now. I’d learned the hard way that the all-too-well-known “grey area” spans many facets of life. People always have something to worry about. I had blindly sped through my last true summer and things had gotten much more complicated as the seasons changed. When winter came, I realized my first semester had passed in a blur of tangled emotion and mindlessly following instruction. Somewhere along the way I had lost complete faith in myself and my decision-making ability. For God’s sake, I was stringing a lifeline 157 miles across the state and somehow trying to focus on my not-so-distant future. It was a joke, plain and simple. My twisted brain tried to justify every action I made in some sad attempt to give myself some sanity on those weeks away from home. The fact that I was driving myself to the one place I did not want to be just seemed like some sort of punishment. It’s not that I was completely miserable every moment I was away, but in all honesty, there was something for me here. I was almost scared with the way he could put on songs and I’d cry and somehow feel comfortable admitting my internal arguments aloud. He said the things I never could: “Forget them. You don’t need them. If you are not happy, do what will get you there.” I hate clichés, but it was easier said than done.