katfireblade

Every time I come up here, I find myself inevitably drawn in. Despite the laughter, the companionship, the quiet beauty of the area, the comfort of being at home, there are ghosts here that haunt me. Every drive becomes a host of old sights and feelings, memories plucking me with tendril-like fingers, wrapping themselves around my soul. Its like dying in slow motion as they play across the cinema of my mind, every sight, every town a place that bears my mark.

And then night falls, a twilight softening a busy mind, and the world fades away until its finally only me, disconnected, the only reality that small patch of road my uneven headlights illuminate. The world springs forth to cradle my wheels, and the darkness stretches out forever, lights in the distance not so much the twinkling of houses or stoplights as they are vast and foreign stars. I am alone, just me, me and a hundred miles of road.

I drive.