Blurry Lines

“Let’s go out and see America.”

That’s what I told you, and I meant it. I expected you to be skeptical; you never were someone to board my crazy-idea trains on a whim. But this time was different and you surprised me.

“How long?”

“As long as it takes.”

So we dropped everything we were doing in life; we dropped out of college, quit our lousy part-time jobs, and just like that we left. We pooled our money, sold some junk, and took your van.

We both agreed that it was irresponsible, but did we care? Sometimes you have to live a little. That’s how we justified it anyway.

Within a month we were out of money, the van had broken down for the hundredth time, and our spirits were at an all time low. We had no choice but to return home.

That was when the accident happened.

Now as I return home without you, something feels weird; everything feels weird. I stare out the window and the world is no longer described by the lines, colors, and points that defined it before. Instead it blurs by like a Van Gogh masterpiece, the blues and greens morphing into one, the lines and points combining into a single nonsensical mess. My world feels hazy and everything is wrong.

I’ll be home soon and then I’ll have to face life. I’m not ready. I’ll never be ready, will I?

I’m an optimist, but sometimes bad things can’t be undermined. This is one of those times.

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