Roadtrip

​It was peaceful when I closed my eyes. No sounds. No racing thoughts. No visuals. Just static blankness. Spits of light here and there. I heard nothing, saw nothing, was nothing. The world goes at the pace I decide. I am the timekeeper. Once my eyelids flutter open it comes rushing back like acid reflux. Bad taste in my mouth that I can’t get rid of. The sting of it all. The dreams we had dissipating right before our eyes, never having a chance to materialize. Can nothing go our way? Is doom our fate forever? I can’t stand sizzling in burden. Feeling like my life is passing me by, like I can’t catch it in my grasp. Like I’m helpless in this fight. Drowning in loss, with no pause in this ever-winding road trip through all the things I could be, knowing I could never be. Repeatedly I see my life flash. I am but a passenger stuck in this vehicle that is me. Help me. I cannot help myself. That’s the narrative. I’m lost and sad and tired, and unsure of how to succeed.  We were going strong until we crashed. You were freed from this world. I was chained behind. We had it all. You were taken and I was left. But everyday I am back in that car. I am back to the tragedy. That is all there is. Everything we could have been, should have been.
​I tried to move forward and found myself strapped in despair and loneliness that gripped me so tightly I only saw spots. We did everything together, went everywhere together. Love attached us to the hip, until you were ripped from my being leaving a gaping bleeding hole that hasn’t been sealed, that my sorrow has peeled it, trying to cope, but it’s not working. I try to hope, I try to dream, I try. But I cannot move. The days are going, the days are going and I’m at a bus stop waiting for a bus that’s never arriving. Why didn’t we go together? Life was supposed to be for us. It was so sweet… us. Lively. Meant for each other and meant for greatness. Meant to thrive in this ruthless world side by side. Partners for life. Now left with an emptiness that cannot be filled in. Watching my life pass me by. Waiting my turn. The fatal turn that will send me flying into your arms. Sorry mom and dad, but I can’t be here.