Rush

fourth year annette aguilar

photo by noah buchanan

i wonder if in the afterlife there is a need to drive or did my past lives hate it as much as i do did i previously die on the road or maybe it's my ancestors migratory lineage and need to keep moving that pushes me forward the cosmics swinging me from end of constellation to next the way the sun moves from one side to the other but it really isn't the sun it's me me at the center of it all always moving looking where to move to and from from and to to and from oh shit i’m going 80 and the speed limit is 55 i need to slow down i always need to slow down i'm thinking of one thing while moving to another the way a shadow trails behind or a ghost - a mere reflection of myself - “you’re too impulsive and you’re hard to keep up with” “i’m sorry” i have confused impulsivity with speed going and going driving from place to place only to end up at the same spot like the way my mother used to move her hands now showing signs of age the wrinkles appearing each time i come back home home in different places it follows me wherever i go is my home here or there is it in the arms of those who will never hold me again or in the thoughts of the ones i love or am i just an empty vessel navigating on autopilot crash landing in a sea of green only staying afloat because my insides are made of fluff i am everything soft and still feel so rough do things always feel like this will i always feel like this feeling the need to race to my destination aw i missed my favorite part of this song WHOOSH damn that car is driving fast its like everyone is always in a hurry i mean what else can we do life is like that maybe not life but at least we are like that i know i'm not the only one who feels like someone is constantly chasing them perhaps not someone but something - a career a moment a feeling - someone or something always trailing behind us making sure we either reach a finish line or do anything to prevent us from doing so is that someone or something yourself are you just letting things get to you there really is nothing stopping you “if you can’t keep up please don’t slow me down” i know i’m racing but god does this breeze feel so good my fingertips being caressed by winds from all directions the sounds of outside banging on the half-open window to be let in my hair exploding like confetti all over its a rush i mean in the end or in the middle or even at the very beginning all you really have to do is just stop and breath i have to just stop and 

breathe.