The Fast Lane

 As I write this I am sitting in my room on my bed, with the faint glow from my salt lamp and only a will to lie still. Not to die but to lie still, just get comfortable and stare at how my lamp lights up parts of my room and casts a reflection onto others, to lose myself in my thoughts. This is quite a regular occurrence for me, so regular that I have no doubts it has been happening since I was a child. I have always been a deep thinker, but god what a curse it can be. I am, quite simply, chained forever to this wandering mind. A mind I will admit can be quite beautiful at times, but filled with dark places to go; slimy nooks and crannies and a curious firefly as an occupant.


I look at the reflection on my bare arm. A light pink glow on otherwise very fair skin. I ponder; thought after thought spirals and I find myself stuck on the fact that we are all alone. The only person to be with us our whole lives, someone we can rely on to always find their way back to us and show nothing but loyalty, is ourselves. Family dies, friends die if they don’t drift apart, acquaintances would be foolish to stick around, teachers watch us graduate, and significant others ultimately die. Who knows what comes next? Our lives are a 7 billion lane highway leading nowhere. The lanes never combine but cars from some will merge into others; and in the end, the cars don’t even matter. We are pavement, and we are left with only our pavement and it’s memory. Only I have lived my life and only you have lived yours. We are all horribly, painfully, alone.


To be in a room filled with people and remember that the only person to know everything in your life that’s happened, to understand the reasoning behind your every move, is you. Whether you realize it or not. Your stupid high school boyfriend doesn’t know that you avoid creeks no matter how shallow because you fell off your raft the one time you didn’t have a lifejacket on and almost drowned had your father not reached in and grabbed you. Your best friend doesn’t know that you’re afraid of campfires because you watched a scary movie with your sister once that your mind can’t seem to let go of. As much as you know someone, you will never fully know someone, simply because you will never hold the knowledge that they hold about themselves. Their lane is one you have not travelled and one you will never travel, their pavement is something only they know the cracks and ridges and beautiful imperfections of. Furthermore, the only person who knows each and every single moment of your life is you. Your brilliant, beautiful brain. And no matter how hard you try, no one will ever know as much about you as your mind does. 


The spaces my mind wanders at night terrifies me. In the day I am a fearless warrior but at night the kinks in my armour betray me the most. To understand another’s thought process, to listen to what goes on in their minds, will never be accomplished; it is simply impossible. And until someone makes impossibility a possibility, we are alone. I like to think about all the little paint droplets and accidental footprints in my lane, and I dislike remembering the cracks. All of these are things I can physically touch with my hands, run my fingers over the foreign but yet familiar tar. As black as the night and rough as the feeling of a strong wave, sending you flying towards the shore upon impact. My lane moves fast, 30km above the max and littered in cars with strong engines. Flashy colours, and pretty headlights.  All of these details are what separates me from others, what makes me different from what I started with and a stranger to who I once was.


By only looking at a house on a street or a stranger on the bus, it is crazy to think that in them is a life just like mine. I don’t mean that we are similar in the aspect of our experiences, because that I do not know, but I mean that this life I ponder so deeply occurs for them too. They drive a lane separate to mine, but a lane on this highway we share nonetheless. Maybe I only take it so hard because I can’t lack in thinking about it, I struggle to go about my day mindlessly. Although we share our concept of life and our “structure” as I shall call it here, our lives couldn’t be any less separate. I would love to share the details of my pavement with you, trust me I would, but that is something that simply cannot be done; something that drives a deep wedge between us.


 In the end we are truly, and only, alone.





I’m sorry.

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One thought on “The Fast Lane

  1. Hugs to you, dear Michelle – I feel this piece.
    Miss you, but so glad that you keep writing!
    We should teach you, too, how to create blog for you. One that you can design and really express yourself.
    Take care.
    Ms. Hunni

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