Not even young Anthony Keidis could drown out the angry horns of passing New Yorker's. Or my current sorrows.
So sorry for going the speed limit, jerks.
I hold one hand on the wheel and use the other one to tuck loose strands of blonde hair back into my milkmaid braid that Kara had spent an hour creating. My mind was far away, not paying attention to my surroundings, heightening the chances of a car crash. I didn't mind. I was feeling down today, in a particularly nostalgic funky blues type of way.
Earlier this morning, I received a post card from my parents, who are currently somewhere in southern Europe. The picture on the card revealed that they had stopped in Bosnia on one of their many vacations they had been taking throughout the years following my moving out. I was sad not only because I haven't seen them in nearly three years and missed them terribly, but because I was jealous and longed to be anywhere but here. Sometimes I wished I stayed with them just so I could be traveling the world instead of driving back and forth from New York City to Bronxville, wasting my college degree.
I probably sound like a privileged snob saying that, no matter how true it is. I guess I'm not as unhappy as I was back in Wisconsin, my home state, but I'm still unhappy. At least back in Wisconsin I had a couple of friends and my parents. Here I only have my cousin, Kara, who's the closest thing to a friend that I have, and my aunt, who's gone all the time because of her profession. It's pathetic. I've been here for a little over four years without any acquaintances or even a boyfriend to show for it.
It's not that I'm unlikable, because I'd like to think I am, or that I'm too unattractive, because no matter how bad I feel about my appearance, I know I'm decently hot. I had boys flocking to me left and right back in high school and in college. No one had ever caught my fancy, though. I had a boyfriend or two in the past, but that was a long time ago, and as of the moment, I was alone.
As far as my friendships go, I only have one from high school that I still talk to, and she's a DJ in Los Angeles now. I've lost touch with the rest, not that there were many to keep connections with anyway. I somehow managed to go through all four years of college without making a lasting friendship, too.
"Call from Kara." My car said in its monotone robot voice.
"Hi, Kara!" I smile in my greeting, which is full of false enthusiasm.
As much as I confide in Kara with nearly everything, she doesn't know that I was in a such a low spot today, and I didn't plan on telling her. Kara tends to blow things way out of proportion. One time I told her that this guy had complemented me, and she convinced me that he had a crush on me and basically forced me to ask him out. Turns out that he was just being genuinely kind and just made a total fool of myself.
"Hey, do you think that I could borrow your red blouse tonight? I'm going to a party and I don't have ANYTHING to wear," she plainly states.
Another party? I was envious of Kara's social life. It was the complete opposite of mine. She was always going out to a party somewhere and she has so many friends and her boyfriend is a total babe and don't even get me started on the amount of followers she has on Instagram.
"I suppose. Just please wash it when you're done wearing it. The last time I let you wear something of mine to a party it came back to me smelling like a frat house," I complain. I know there will be weed and alcohol and this party tonight, like there always is at these parties she goes to.
"Sure, will do. Thanks, Jay." The line goes dead before I can even ask where she's going in case I need to come get her. I shouldn't worry, though. At eighteen years old, Kara has a pretty good head on her shoulders. She knows better than smoke or get drunk when she's going to drive. But still, I'm slightly nervous whenever she goes out.
I slide back into my gloomy mood now that my conversation with Kara is over. I'd rather keep driving than go to work, but I have to, so I turn my blinkered on and slide into the exit lane for the city.
New York City traffic never ceases to completely pissy me off. I understand that there are millions of people in this small area, but the black SUV in front of me does not need to be driving at a cautious fifteen in a thirty zone. I'm in such a fury from being behind such a slow driver that I whip around the corner to the parking garage faster than I should have, and park too close to the line.
I grumble to myself as I lock my car. Now my mood has shifted from self pity to loathsome. Great, just what I need before my shift.
BINABASA MO ANG
Driven | An Adam Driver Fanfiction
Fanfiction"Oblivion is bliss. I missed not knowing about it, which sounds insane to admit, but before I realized what was going on when I wasn't around, our relationship was striking red. Not anymore. Now it was grey. It was dead and so was I. At least, that'...
