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Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1007414-The-Last-Ride
Rated: E · Other · Psychology · #1007414
In this writing Ive tried to get in the mind of a desperate lonely and hopeless person
"This is it."
I ease on the accelerator and the car lurches forward.
"I've lost it."
10 comes quickly, a smooth rush of air enters through the open window.
"I wish it could be different, but my wishes... they are worthless."
Approaching twenty, pistons pounding rapidly, like the beat of my heart.
"I knew it would come to this."
My foot gets a little heavier as 30 somes and goes.
"If you knew, why couldn't you stop it?"
Forty is faster in arriving. I listlessly gaze at the pavement as the lines come and pass with increasing speed.
"Because I wasn't strong enough."
Fifty is there in a flash, the breeze growing in strength. I look to some far away place, apathetic of what lies ahead.
"You realize what you are doing?"
"Absolutely."
All doubt has left my mind by the time sixty passes under the needle. Too many times I've been down this road and slammed on the brakes. This time I wore no seatbelt, and my foot was steadily increasing its pressure on the gas.
"What about the people you will hurt?"
With a deep anger I slam on the accelerator, and I'm at eighty-five in no time at all.
"They will see what they took for granted, and realize that this is a pain that they well deserve."
Looming in the distance is the wall. For the first time my inhibitions are gone, blown away by the strong wind as the needle climbs the speedometer to 90. For reasons unknown I am content. My hands loosely grip the wheel.
"Now nothing matters."
One hundred, one hundred ten, one hundred twenty. The wall is now approaching fast, and the lines on the road blur into one. Nothing is holding me back now. I am eerily relaxed. Soon the unbearable yoke will be gone. No longer will I be constantly reminded of what is wrong with me.
"What of hope?"
One thirty. The car is shaking, and I'm watching the wall rush ever closer.
"Long ago it was lost."
One forty-five passes in the blink of an eye. I am hurtling toward the wall, and there is no stopping now.
"This is it."
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