Turn on the ignition, and turn up the 80s music. We are going for a drive.
The beat, the bass, comes in strong.
Driving alone, when you’ve been so low – the road you’ve covered isn’t what you’d thought it’d be. Littered with regrets. Ripped open by the cold. Barely recognizable in the rear view mirror.
The destination is unclear, as are our intentions, opaque against the sun-baked, streaky windshield. We don’t know where we’re going, so we look back, from where we came. But we know better. We are not wanted – not welcome – there.
The road brings it home. The beat keeps us honest.
The synth comes in heavy.
Driving solo, when you’ve been so lost – the road you’re on isn’t where you set out to be. Ringing in your ears. Running through you mind. Scarcely what you hoped for or wanted.
The answers are never easy, nor are our truths, brooding in the distance in those pitch-dark clouds. We watch the past like it might change and study it like it might forgive. But we know better. The innocence is gone but guilty hearts beat on.
The road sets the pace. The beat keeps us honest.
The treble comes in sharp.
The truth is, you’re driving on your own – the road forward is all you know. The direction of your faults. The reflection of your fears. Never what you thought you’d be facing.
The future isn’t clear, cloudy like our hope, keeping company with the sky above. We will chase it forward, if only because we can’t go back. We will worry and stress and project when we can. We will fight and push and reject what we can. We will accelerate into the storm – against everything we were, everything we are, everything we have.
But the road guides us, reminds us, and keeps us straight. And the beat keeps us honest.