I ran back to my car, pounding the pavement to oblivion as I crashed through the small crowd in front of me. When I reached the car I forced the jammed door open and quickly threw my self into the front seat.
She was already gone by now, there was no point in even turning on the car. I grabbed the wheel in frustration and began to beat the horn with my right fist until the skin on my knuckles tore from the rubber and people passing by began to jump back.
Why me, every goddamn time. It just aims straight for my soul every time, I can never escape this vindictive cycle. Every year it creeps into this town, finds me at my house, unaware, resting. Drifts under the doors and spreads wide and far covering every crevice of my home. Never missing a crack or a corner, every drawer, every cabinet, every damn crease in the wall all drenched in this dark mist - to the point where I have no safe zone, no place to stand or sit, let alone live, without being forced to face this cloud.
It simply enters unannounced and encompasses my mind, seeping deep into my bones. The conversion is simple, it aims for my vision first; the force manipulates my vision and makes me perceive it as something light, not a dreadful dark sea. It quickly wipes my thoughts of ever seeing it, masking the pain and confusion, forcing me to suddenly switch my views - become “happy” for once. “Alive”.
But it’s a facade, falsified. A front put on by my shrouded mind to make me have hope. Hope that my life could change, that I could leave...only to strip me of my chance. Every time it happens, I try to capture the feeling, to not lose the warmth and comfort...I swear I try. Its the shroud, the force, that just builds me up to the moments where I think I can change - before appearing from its cave to stunt my progress. Panic attacks, hesitation - it’s impossible to overcome the strength of this ego that overtakes me. I’m left here, once again, every single time.
I roughly rubbed the tears out of my eyes - there was no point in staying here anymore, I was okay to drive now. I sniffled like a small child as I reversed out of the parking lot, then proceeded to scold myself for losing my composure. I needed to be strong when I dealt with these type of things - that’s something I learned quickly. If I wasn’t, I would end up back in one of those homes, or a burden to some random brother or cousin, until I could clam my self down and come back to this town. It’s actually a nice change of scenery but sometimes the time away isn’t short. Sometimes it’s for years, depending on what I did to myself. Talking or acting depressed, usually only got me about a week or two with relatives, but an attempted suicide? That lands an even bigger sentence.
I wasn’t trying to tread on that land mine this time around. This time, I would keep my composure.
I pulled out of the church lot onto the adjacent street, stopping at a nearby stoplight. I finished rubbing my eyes and sighed as I looked up at the red light that prevented my flee. Just this once, couldn’t it be green? I wondered how many people asked themselves the same question, each with their own reasons for needing a quick green light in their lives. I was no different, even if I believed I was. The only thing that could comfort me was the thought that just maybe God was attempting to construct some plan and that this red light was crucial to the processes. From whatever stuck with me as I drifted through my trance during the sermon at church, I gathered that God will always have a plan. But I didn’t see one in play.
The light turned green.
I sped down the street and out of the town, back onto the long, narrow strip by the farmland. I kept gaining speed, my foot applying pressure, contracting the pedal. The resistance increased and the wind through the open windows lashed at my face. I almost closed my eyes to combat the assault but I managed to transcend the physical discomfort by simply focusing on the road. As the striped lines zipped by, my vision blurred and my mind unraveled.