Psych.

Alone.

I was on my own the moment I saw that truck back out of the drive way. The chill of 3:00 AM air liked to crawl up my spine and raise hell in it's path.
The steps on my porch seemed to be the only thing I knew. So I sat there waiting for countless hours to tick by, watching the end of my driveway in hopes for her return.
Nothing.
That day, skies were grey even though they shined a bright blue. The warmth of the sun was rain to me. The voices around me were muffled. I could feel myself going insane.
Driving my rumbling truck was the only comfort. The feeling of being infinite as I ignored the law and sped away from frustrations.
This is where I decided to leave.
*********
In my lonely house hold, I gathered what things I had left and stuffed them into my 97 f-150. It was old, but it always got me to where I needed to be.
I glanced at the clock's neon green numbers. 7:56 AM and not a wink of sleep. That didn't matter. I was stubborn and set on my path.
For the last time, I shut the door behind me. On my back was a backpack full of basic necessities: money, personal hygiene products, a cellphone charger, water, and granola bars.
The feeling that weighed down my steps was unbearably tiring. I wished for everything to be a bad dream. I wished that I would wake up and the smell of breakfast would entice me to get out of bed.
But that didn't happen.
Instead, I took to the road. I drove past all of my memories. Everyone and everything I knew. I met with the unknown and it wasn't very welcoming. I passed empty buildings and vacant streets. Everything seemed to be dead. The splitting migraine was the only company I had. Well, that and my radio. I appreciated the radio in my truck more than anything at the moment because i'm convinced that if it wasn't there, I would have driven my self into the ditch and rolled my truck. But I didn't.
That night, I stopped at a gas station. An old, scraggly looking man stood outside smoking a cigarette. For the first time in my life that cigarette looked enticing. Just another thing to blacken my lungs and shorten my life. That sounded like a great idea. I made my way into the restroom and brushed my teeth.
Written on the mirror were many wishes and desires. None of them ever came true. I knew that. I felt bad for the people who had taken the time to scrawl on this bathroom mirror in the middle of no where. As if displaying their hopes and dreams would make the chances of them coming true a little more reachable.
I decided to write my own.
"I wish for something stable." That could be anything really. But that was unreachable because things were ever changing and in my case they were always negative. Which really sucked because I had tried on positivity once and it was pretty. But it didn't come in my size.
On my way out, I bought a pack of cigarettes and a tank of gas.