But I have to pretend everything is fine. Lesson learned: never overcompensate with synthetic adrenaline. Forcing tedious moments to seem significant. It never is.
There’s that crash afterwards. When you realize the futility of your existence, bursts of happiness seem fake in retrospect. Turning off the ignition and the engine’s white noise stops. You’re not going anywhere anymore. You’re exactly back to when the day begun. Zero Displacement. I’m finally home.
It should’ve been relief at the prospect of the cold bed enveloping my body. I don’t want that. I just want to sit still in the garage, in a parked car.
Maybe I’m not the only one pushing an imaginary boulder in hopes of progress. I’m scared to change velocity. Maybe we all are. Don’t let temporary bliss blind that burden.