Diary 12-9-02

 The fog shrouds the freeway, dimming traffic to a few ghostly
reflections of headlights. I like it. It leaves me alone with my
thoughts, alone with the world. Too bad my thoughts are as clear as the
fog and all I can think about is the past and the uncertain future.
Wisps of things drift through my brain...a love I miss, bills I'm unsure
how to pay, my shortcomings. I know that, like ghosts, these thoughts
have no place in day to day life, and yet they occupy the daily drive,
the blur of life as one day fades greyly into another and offers nothing
brighter to hope for.
  At the edge of my sight and thoughts, I notice an increasing darkness.
It's the traffic. An SUV is to my right, an 18-wheeler to my left. I
drift to the left. I could keep going. Would it hurt much, I wonder.
Would I flinch as metal grated on metal and the huge truck chewed up my
car and ground me under its 18 wheels? How much pain might there be as I
was pulled and crushed by the crash? Maybe not much. Maybe the shock of
flesh tearing off and the speed, at least 60 miles an hour, would make
it nothing more than a flash of red, and then nothing at all. People
would say it was an accident. They'd blame it on the fog.
  The truck changes lanes away from me. Reflexively, my hands jerk the
steering wheel away as speed bumps vibrate beneath my tires.
 "Good morning," say my co-workers when I arrive at work. "How are you
this morning?"
  I reply, "Fine."

 
Sonja Torres 2002
 
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