Whenever I reach a point where I feel spent. Exhausted. Frustrated. I seem to retreat into a place where I envision a simpler life. The exact opposite of what I desire most, what seems to constantly elude me. Perhaps it's the fight or flight instinct. Perhaps I do really just long for peace, ease and exclusion from the society I love.
I'm an outsider, an outlier, a conformist that refuses to conform to the melancholy that the general population accepts as their fate. It's so hard to continue the drive, especially when my tanks are empty. And for, seemingly infinite periods, I continue to push my car. Until. Until I find a rest stop or somewhere to get a drop of adrenaline.
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