The (Im)Perfect Escape

The (Im)Perfect Escape

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WpMetadataReadOngoing3h 21m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Mon, Oct 8, 2012
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Fiction
Social Themes
After the accident, nothing seemed right. I walked around like a mindless zombie, having the occasional breakdown that involved me rocking back and forth in the fetal position while muttering about imaginary men in spandex suits and lollipops. I shouldn’t have been too surprised when my grandparents shipped me off to spend the summer with my shrink stepmother in the no-name Texan beach town she lives in. Now, I’m stuck in a town full of crazies. It’s as if Noah’s ark of rejects made a home here, and now most of them are flocking to me. When did I turn into a beacon for insane people? All I want to do is get through this summer without fully cracking and getting a full ride trip to the funny farm. Is that too much to ask? Although, it might be what I deserve after what I did. Karma seems to have it out for me. Or maybe Old Man Wallace—or whatever his name is today—is right, and the androids really are out to get us all. This was supposed to be the perfect escape—a way to get away from everything back home. It’s starting to look like I’m in a summer chick flick gone way, way wrong.
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Sometimes I wonder if I'm the only one that drives down the interstate and imagines what it would be like to steer just a little to the right and crash through the guardrails or drive off the side of a cliff, maybe hit a tree or two while going eighty miles per hour. Am I the only one that wants to know what it would be like to feel the sting of glass shattering from the windshield and cutting into your skin, blood trickling down your face and the copper taste hitting your lips. Would I scream? Would I try to escape and call for help or would I stay frozen in place? I wonder if anyone would really even miss me, would the world be different in any way? My work would have to find someone to work the night shift, someone would have to clear out my apartment so that a new tenant can move in, my mom and dad would have to pretend to be torn apart over the lose of their eldest daughter. I don't think much would change, I have no real significance in this world. I don't think any of my friends would be too terribly distraught over it, it's not as if there's anyone I talk to on a regular basis anyway. I push down on the accelerator, watching as the speedometer hits one hundred and I check my mirrors for cops, smiling to myself when I see that I'm the only car on the road at this hour. I turn up my radio and drive the familiar roads way too fast, sometimes swerving between the lines, unable to hear anything but the music vibrating throughout the entire car.

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