the car ride to my house consists of a cliff and a road.
whenever I drive down this road, I grip the steering wheel a little harder and my brow furrows.
I sink my teeth into my lip as my hands shakily, slowly, go to the lane closest to the edge.
a part of me wants to just drive down.
fall, fast, down to my demise.
every day, my mind considers this.
but there's a barrier that prevents me from going further.
that barrier consists of all the things I hold dear,
all the things I worked for,
all the things I love,
and all the things I hate.
with those thoughts,
I remember I shouldn't.
I move to the lane farthest away
and breathe in deeply.
I stopped another attempt,
I'd think to myself,
I stopped another mistake.