I want to get into my car and drive.
I have no idea where to. Honestly, I don't care. As long as it's not to work or school or home, I think I'll be content. Buildings now sicken me. Closed spaces, artificial light, commercial air--I find myself being instead of living.
It's not that I don't care about my future. I don't mind the college applications, or the large load of schoolwork, or even the oily 8+ hours shifts at work every single weekend. But I do mind the lack of time I seem to have. Sure, I'm quitting my job to make room for school. No, I don't have the best time-management skills. Yeah, I know I'm not the only teenager with a lot of stuff to do nor am I the teenager with the world on his or her shoulders.
In fact, I'm quite average.
Being average, I miss me time. I miss the present.
At the beginning of school, I joined the traditional march with eyes staring straight ahead. It's been a long march, and we're currently in the last lap. In this stretch to the finish line, I see friends and peers stressing or lazing, sprinting all out before the collapse or dilly-dallying behind. I was a sprinter. I am a sprinter.
But my lungs constrict with the lack of oxygen; the acid in my body burns my muscles; and the sweat shrouds my eyes. My goal is there, though. I know it. I can feel it. Straight ahead. My goal. My plan. My future. But am I still running towards it? Do I remember what "it" is?
I've been sprinting so fast that the world is a blur. I can't distinguish one color from another. Shouldn't there be air? Wind? The sweat blurs my vision. Is there anyone there? Running with me? Running ahead? I can't even look up at the sky to see the star that leads north. I've been sprinting so fast that I can't remember what I passed, what I'd seen, what I'd felt, what it's like to breath. Nothing can touch me at this speed. I can touch nothing.
Wanting to slow down, but afraid to do so, never stopping, but too tired to keep going--I'm not the only one. I refuse to be the candle that burns out or a teenage robot going through the expected motions of society life.
To be or not to be. To live or to be. I wish the present lasted a littlle longer.
Three months into school, I want to hop into my car with the energy I have left, and drive, feeling the air again, resting while admiring the scenery, and having the freedom to stop and look up at the sky and just breath.
But then I remember:
Gas is expensive.
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