Tangent #4 - Ice

Dammit.

I've been driving for forty-five minutes and I am nowhere. I'm someplace between Hadley and Scott, but I'm not sure what direction I'm supposed to go this time. A smarter woman would have refused to come out in this shit.

I'm two cigarettes into this drive and I've got one left. We keep saying we'll quit this time, but I'm not ready. I'm ready for everything else, but not that. Work tonight was slow and I got caught up in the daydream stuff that always keeps me from making much money. Or is it the hangover? I'm not sure. Maybe I'm still drunk or high or something-far-from-reality and this ice storm is just a figment of something else that's blocking me.

Doubtful.

This is real. Traffic is crawling and all I want to do is see him. I'm not even sure why anymore. I can't see through the her-and-then-now or the fact that she's likely beaten me to the house. At least, I keep thinking this when I try to speed like this and smoke like this and every time, she's not even there.

Why do I care so much? I'm only a quarter way's away from my past and all I can think is future - future - future - future. Do I even have one at this rate? I could careen over the edge here in my car and never get out. Nah. Life's not this short, is it?

I'm on my last cigarette and I want to quit. I don't even know why I want to quit. She smokes. He smokes. I smoke. We smoke. She doesn't always smoke.
And never with us.
I wonder why that is? Why am I so obsessed?

She makes it look so easy. Makes it look so easy to love someone.
She makes everything look easy. She's easy.
I should keep that in mind.
But I can't.
She's got all those checks and balances in her favor. I hate her.

And I love her.

And she's already checked me and has me in this compartment.
She doesn't think I know about it, but I can tell when she looks at me.
She thinks I'm small. She knows she does it better.
Knows she does it smarter.
Knows she had everything first.

Only thing I got on her is him.
And the fact that I am eventually going to hit her.
In that smug piece-of-shit mouth. She honestly thinks I wouldn't.

I would.
I will.
I just don't know when.

But that's only going to make me look stupid and I feel stupid anyway.
He thinks I'm stupid.
I really don't know if or why he loves me.
But he does.
More than her.

The why would make me sleep at night.
And I can't ask.

Perhaps I'll never get there.