Writing.

I had three destinations, none of which was I particularly eager to visit. From A to B, I tried not to think. I had the same song playing on my radio, one that has been causing a lot of thought, not good, not bad, just stimulating ideas. I was out to deliver something, something simple. There were plenty of reasons as to why I could have stayed, but I felt the frustration creep upon me, the tension beginning to crawl on my skin the second I parked my car. I couldn’t bring myself to stay, no, not in light of what has been happening. I returned to my car in nothing short of a hurry, only to determine that there would be another stop to make. I took a very obscure route, one that would never be taken if gas consumption and time efficiency were called into question. However absurd this way of travel was, I did it for a reason. Nostalgia. I deliberately took the street that would take me by my high school, in hopes of either distracting me from current problems, or reminding me of past mistakes. It had little to no effect on me, quite unlike the music that I now had playing. A playlist with choice songs that I thought might instigate some emotion. I was right. From B to C was a chaotic decision. I wanted to drive to get away from everything. I wanted to drive to not be anywhere. I wanted to drive so that it seemed like I was out doing something, that I was busy. I wanted to drive long enough for my tear-stained eyes to return to their once-normal state. Most importantly, I was now driving to get gas. From C to A, I had nothing to listen to but silence. I returned to the days when I first received my driver’s license, when I would think when driving, rather than blast music and sing. I stumbled upon some of my best ideas in those silent trips, I was hoping to emulate that. To some degree, I did. This route was no less obscure than the first. I went through the neighborhood of my youth, past the hosues of childhood friends, my elementary and middle school, and previous homes in which I lived. Sometimes overlapping the streets in my travels, coming upon roads I’ve never personally driven on, but somehow knew where they lead out of familiarity. I did this until all was visited. I did this until I decided it was time to return home.

That silent thinking. It brought upon more concepts, ideas, would-be solutions… But the only question that I believe was truly answered was “Am I a good friend?”

The answer being a very sad, bitter, and regretful no. 

The tears fought their way back.

The overpass faded into the gray sky. The colors all blended so naturally, as if the horizon ceased to exist and we were driving into a sea of calm nothingness. I’d be fine with that, too, going on forever in that way. Driving, living, dreaming. All illusions are shattered before long, though, and what’s not meant to be is not meant to be.

Languid curiosity fuels the engine, and baseless hope guides the wheel. Only persisting with the underlying wonder of what is to come, half-heartedly wishing that it will not, half-heartedly relying on the pointless anticipation of something grand. However, dealing with this false promise made to oneself that glory will one day find you surely gets old when only the taste of bitter defeat coats their tongue. It is no easy feat to continue in such a way, it is no pleasant road. Why this machine has not given out is far beyond me.

I’m just repeating the process I was told to not undergo in the first place. It just has a new mask this time, but the harm is the exact same thing. I can at least acknowledge the synonymous trends that are beginning to transpire, but knowing isn’t enough to stop it. It is within my nature to act around another person. It’s as if I have no life of my own, and therefore I fill it with another person’s agenda, another person’s best interests… Everyone tells me to live my life… But how can I when I don’t know what I want out of it?

Don’t conform.

It is within our nature to go against our judgment if it means acting within the social norm of a group or crowd. This mindset is acquired early on, through the fear of being different and ultimately unaccepted by others. People, however, aren’t too intelligent as a whole, and certainly should not be trusted to act accordingly in situations that require it. We are often afraid to act out against these subtly placed group expectations, even if acting out means the safety of oneself or others.

So don’t conform, and think for yourself.

You’ll be better off.

Am I really so secluded? So guarded from the world? So buried beneath my superstitions? I suppose changing externally is vastly more simplistic than changing internally. I’m still an introvert at heart, and it’s becoming increasingly relevant that more than just my level of outgoing required change. Surely I will open up sooner or later. I owe it to you considering how vocal you are about certain things. I owe it to myself to get out of this shell. I’m only afraid of the results. But why?

How fair is it asking someone to wait? How much sense does it make? As much as asking them to throw their lives away, because the more time they spend waiting for you, the less time they have achieving any sense of fulfillment.

Good things come to those who wait? What rubbish. Good things come to those who take action and are relentless in their pursuit of their desires.

To be in love with someone who will never love you back, it is undeniable pain. The realization causes the effort to then go into becoming as close to them as possible. “Best friends” might be the ideal term, but for one of the two it will always be something more. Something they yearn for and are taunted by daily, but can’t have. Sacrifice after sacrifice made, only to build up in their eyes, to show what a reliable and wholesome person is right under their nose. Watching, listening, as they go on about love, unaware of the hidden emotions, the feigned disinterest. It’s pain. Pain that causes sleepless nights. Pain that creates a victim to the reoccurring, relentless grasp that is the truth. The expectation, no, the hope for gratification is always present, that they might see the effort and do something about it, but the fruitless labor is typically all it will ever be.

People fear dreamers, they fear the new and the different, the unexplained and the yet to be explored. People don’t deal with fear well. They run, they scream, they toss around bold accusations as truth because they don’t want to get close enough to learn the true reasons. People are feeble, careless, and selfish. But we are the dreamers. We are the go-getters. We are the explorers. We are the unique. We will cause a revolution or become swallowed by society in death or begrudging acceptance. Shine or become extinguished, it’s your choice.

You must fall before you can get up. You must learn what it is to lose before you can truly appreciate gain. Embrace the trials and the hardships, for you will emerge greater. Your ties will be stronger, your bonds more solid, and you will attain a certain clairvoyance that only comes with experience. Do not shy away from the new and unusual. You will fail, it is inevitable, but it can only make you better.