I Am Cars And This Is My Heart

The gentle hum of the car engine was a lullaby.  Everything burned of red; brake lights on fire.  Misplaced honks of angry drivers were futile.  But I was in my own little bubble.  My sight was hazy and I couldn't make out the last few words of the song on the radio.  A long car ride is like incarcerating yourself with your brain -- a rigorous interview session.

All I am waiting for is the whisper that would set me up through a looking glass.  I am finding out how lost I am, and I don't think I've admitted it as much before.  I refuse to look for myself mainly because I am afraid of what I'm going to find (out).  I am stubborn, maybe.  But I'm definitely most afraid.  My mind is telling me things and I feel like everything is possible.  Everything is possible.  It's one of those moments when I don't appreciate the infiniteness of things.  The notion of limitless possibilities does not comfort me.  I can't rely on destiny and coincidences all the time but I feel like I've become dependent.  Wouldn't I want my life to turn back to the time before everything turned to stone?

The car suddenly moves and I am careened out of my thoughts, into reality.  But I plunge right into somewhere in between.  All I could see was the collision of sea and sky dotted by birds and boats and the occasional trash.  What I'm thinking is that although I know it stretches for miles and miles, it looks pretty finite to me.  Everything meets at the horizon.   It feels just like an optical illusion -- a joke.  But what I want is to see everything for what they truly are.  I hate that right now I'm dependent on greys and incoherence.  I want to see.

But my eyes are tired, and the heart can only look so far..