I almost hit a deer. It came out of nowhere and seemed to fade away as I closely, just barely passed it. I closed my eyes for a split second and sped up. I felt alive and I kept speeding.
I drove closer and closer to my house, inhaling menthol cigarette smoke into my lungs. Drag after drag I imagined the impact. I could close my eyes and envision the blazing headlights of a semi filling my windshield. I could hear the roar, the annoyed horn blaring urging me to get the fuck out of the way.
I opened my eyes and was greeted with darkness.
Nothing was there.
No telephone pole.
In fact, nothing at all to crash in to.
My demise wasn't waiting for me. I felt sad. Not for my death, but for this feeling not being true.
I flicked my cigarette out the window and watched the orange embers twirl and suddenly go out on the asphalt behind me.
How could a feeling so strong be untrue.
In the distance I saw red flashing lights. I quickly turned the volume of the radio down to really concentrate on these blinking lights. I knew what it was, but I wished for something different.
I approached the railroad tracks with little discretion for my well being. I, again, closed my eyes, applied forced pressure to the gas and waited for the impact. I put down the windows and listened for the train whistle.
I heard nothing.
Silence, only silence, except for my racing heart and speeding car. I gripped the wheel and hoped for a train.
I crossed the smooth tracks with anger and frustration. I didn't necessarily want to die, I just felt like I was going to.
I was ready.
I searched the radio frequencies trying to find the perfect song to die to. I couldn't simply select a cd, I had to find a song on the radio. It had to be more than a song. It had to be a sign from something higher. It had to have more meaning than mere notes and lyrics.
This too came up short.
I turned the volume off and waited for another feeling to guide me.
Then I realized I've wasted time dying instead of living.
I wrote this really early in the morning today. I really thought I was going to die last night. I wasn't suicidal by any means, I just felt like that was in the cards. My life would end then. And I was completely calm about it. I pictured my funeral and got sad, but I've told Alex before that I don't want anyone to mourn me. I want to be celebrated. I want others to live life like I do. I want my favorite food to be eaten, music to be playing and a joint to be passed around.
I imagined watching down on all of this.
I was so speedy last night.
I've been so speedy lately.
Thanks to pills.
The past couple of nights have been nothing but a haze of powder snorted off of cd cases and magazines, bowls of ancient weed [i think, anyway] and disgusting Steak 'n Shake coffee.
It's been a nice vacation, but it's back to reality. At least until I get some valiums on Saturday.