Driving down long, winding roads,
I try to push myself to hit 100,
but I never quite get there.

A quiet hope stirs,
for something to hit me,
to end it all,
so I won’t have to drive my car through a wall.

I check my blind spots,
Cautious, because
I care about humanity,
but not about myself.

I want to speed,
to let go,
but I don’t,
because I don’t want to be a nuisance
to the others on the road.
So I drive meticulously.

The music plays,
the same songs on repeat,
but I can’t hear them.
All I feel is the pounding in my head.

My hand grips the wheel,
and the thought repeats:
“Just one slight miscalculation,
just one wrong move…”

I want to.
But I don’t.