So I leaned back in my upholstered car seat, gripping the steering wheel tightly in both hands. It wasn’t the first time I’d taken this route, but or some reason I was very uncomfortable. The music wafting from my speakers with quiet and melodic, but its dulcet tones did nothing to soothe my frazzled nerves. I did my best to pay attention to the road signs, but my mind began –as it always does—to wander. And sooner than I had expected, I was as lost physically as I was mentally. I sighed, cursing under my breath. I was forever losing something, or getting lost. Maybe it was because I was always lost. Well, mentally, I was. My mind would just wander in so many different directions at once, that what I was physically doing always got left in its dust.
That particular time, my mind was on a good friend. Maybe he was my best friend, I don’t know. Whatever kind of relationship we have, it was something incredibly special. It could have been love, or it could have been something stronger. At first we had bonded through music. A powerfully beautiful being. I was a vessel; I was a channel that music could enter the world through. He was a listener; he would drink in all the music I could sing out. It was a very wonderful thing, really…as odd as it sounds. Around that already potent bond, something incredible grew. For a considerably short while, we were friends. It didn’t take me long to bestow that title upon him. I knew instantly that he would be someone important in my life, or some part of it. But then, time forced our paths in different directions. It became harder and harder for us to keep in touch. I was on my way home from visiting him. And I was lost. But I didn’t really mind. It gave my mind more time to wander.
“I know the pieces fit,” I sang softly, “‘Cause I watched them fall away…” I sighed heavily, and forced my attention to the road signs.
“It’s just a matter of putting them back together again.”
Whenever I’d go for long drives, the frailty of life is always prominent in my thoughts. It would be so easy to just hit a patch of ice and careen off of the road, or purposely do the same. A single slip of the hand could mean the end of my life. It was an amazing power, really. Sometimes it thrilled me, and sometimes it was simply terrifying. I was having trouble deciding which it was, until a silver car. Much similar to the white version I was driving, sped towards me. I had the right of way, with a green arrow. But the car rocketed towards my car like a torpedo. The driver had to have run that red light. My heart skipped several beats, and I gasped. It was an incredible feeling, to actually have a fear for my life. That same incredible power that I held in my hands…rested in the hands of anyone behind a steering wheel. Truly unnerving. But after being so dangerously suicidal, having fear for my life was foreign. I was unused to caring whether or not I’d wake up. I was unused to caring about who would miss me when I was gone. Before I left earlier that night, my good friend had told me that he’d be completely lost without me. I, for one, was dumbfounded by this. Why would anyone be lost with out me? Little old me? Another Eleanor Rigby who would die along with her name? It seemed crazy, and maybe even untrue. But one glance in his eyes and I knew he meant it. He had always said what he meant to me. No lies. No trickery. He never ever wanted anything from me other than my friendship. This is probably why I would never hesitate to do anything for him. I thought I was in love with him once. But whatever emotion it was, has not dissipated, but evolved. It has become something more powerful, something more beautiful. Something I will cherish for the rest of my life, and now…I think that may be much, much longer than I thought before.
You see how my mind wanders? For several minutes, my mind was every where but figuring out how to get back onto route 896…