Didn't I say id talk about this again?
Also side note; I feel like a lot of these pages are letters to you with me being angsty in between which is funny. Anyway, to the good part.
Driving through back roads at night listening to music will never be the same. I look out the window and try to imagine what it'll be like. I always picture it the same way. We drive around in a beat up car with the music playing low while we talk. Every once in a while the conversation pauses so we can hear a certain part of the song. I imagine you make me laugh a lot. It's night and the music is turned off and we're quiet. I'm dozing off while watching out the window as the trees pass by. The sky seems to have twice as many stars as usual. The windows are cracked and the car is filled with the smell of the woods during the summer. Sometimes when I imagine it I picture everyone else passed out in the back seat. Other times it's just us. I glance towards you and you're very focused on the road, even though they're basically empty. You're very deep in thought. I ask you what you're thinking about so intently and it startles you a bit. You explain what was bothering you and I fall asleep listening.
We're in a small town in Nowhere, USA. It's mid day and we're walking through the local park. It's the perfect temperature, warm but breezy. We try to take pictures of every place we stop at. You walk around with your camera and photograph everything worth looking at.
It's night time. We decide that we need a good nights sleep and pay for a shitty motel. The vending machine outside our room is broken, and I swear the bathroom has a hole in the wall. The room gives off the vibe of a 70s porno, I almost expect someone to walk in wanting to "fix the pipes". Despite this, the beds feel endlessly comfortable. I fall asleep as soon as I hit the bed, still wearing my clothes from that day. I wake up sweaty and disoriented in the morning, but feel extremely well rested. You're already up. "Definitely a hole in the bathroom" you say walking out of it. We carve our names into the wood lining of the walls.
We're driving through a town and spot a hitch hiker. I look at you hesitantly but you reassure me. They get into the car and ask to just go the hospital a few towns over. We tell them what we've been doing and they think it's so cool. We learn they're going to see their sister have a baby. We ask if we can come see. One arriving at the hospital we go to the room of this random woman and watch her have her baby. It feels symbolic to us, new beginnings. The hitchhiker thanks us and we congratulate the new mother. We drive off and I wonder if they'll ever tell the baby about us.
I'M STILL NOT DONE
