Ash Hill: Work in Progress

Two

My car is my only freedom. My only regression back to when I was happy, or at least happier. My foot on the pedal, the control of where I'm going. The music blaring- sometimes the only outward expression of anger I have. Other times, the music transports me back to another time. Or, the beautiful silence. All other times, my car is my church- though God hardly seems to answer me. He seems to have as much faith in me as I have in me.

Today, my music transported me, back to a timeline I remember truly being happy. It still feels like yesterday. But, to be honest, time froze after that era- at least in my mind. It's a weird sensation, leaving a whole era behind you but reliving it constantly. Maybe that's what tragedy does to us. Or, at very least, what disassociation does.

I remember being actually free. I remember loving my work, and feeling inspired. I remember staying up late like the night would never end and like I never needed sleep. There were nights I can only recall the bits of inebriated joy- the singing and dancing. My friends were all beside me, like armor.

But, the single shining light was one person who stood alone. When being me is no longer safe, I return to him in the corners of my mind. His gentle smile, the way his eyes crinkled in the corners. The deep, baritone laugh. The way he assured me it was safe to be truly, unapologetically me.

I still remember him, he was always my safe harbor.

I thought those days would never end, I thought I could capture them in a bottle and freeze time forever.

That bottled era shattered into a million pieces the day he left without warning. I never knew why, but I always suspected it was my fault. He was the only person I ever truly loved- the only person I ever wanted to love.

I finally mustered up the bravery. I was ready to speak the truth, my truth.

"I love you." I whispered like a prayer.

I waited to hear his chuckle, but, instead, the line disconnected.

He was gone.

It's five years later, and he never returned.

I spoke the truth for the first time, and the love of my life disappeared.

I guess I missed that sometimes my car is my therapy. I grabbed a few napkins from my center console and blotted my tears. No one could ever know about this scar. No one could ever know me again after that.

I was hazardous.

#vote#