I imagine speed sometimes…
Me driving a car, a red one, I don’t know why I always dream of myself inside of a red car, maybe because I associate that color with danger and adrenaline, or love, or maybe because that was the color of my dad’s car, but it is always red. I am driving it! Yes, I know how to drive in my head. I am going so fast that the wind hits my face and I have a feeling of numbness. I am laughing hard when I start, but then I just stop, I can’t control my face muscles, the car is still moving very fast, but I don’t, my mind doesn’t. I have stopped with my hands in the wheel, numb.
Speed is the word that describes my life, everything happened as I was stuck in a moving car which didn’t know how to stop, it just moved faster and faster each time. I grew up faster than my friends. I remember that I was used to the curves in my body way before my friends started freaking out about it. I remember learning not to care about what people thought of me way before my mom did. I remember knowing whether I am religious or not way before my dad did. I remember learning everything so fast, and wanting to know more, wanting to be someone, to achieve something of my own without others’ help. You might think how ambitious I might have been, I think how fast I had to work because I was the only one who could help me. No, my parents didn’t abandon me, they were always there, but luck abandoned them, so they couldn’t provide me all the things I needed, or deserved. Therefore I said to myself: “Study more, read faster, dream quicker, you have to speed up!” I had to, I was the slowest person I have ever met, I still am.
My brain works fast, I trained it to, my mind too, but my will…
My will is slower than my feet. I have very slow feet, maybe because I am short, or maybe because I get distracted easily while walking, and start deluding. I usually have to drag myself up, and when I do nothing can stop or slow me, because I know I could go back to the previous stage of mind. I should never slow down, because when I do I go back to the depression mode, so slow is not an option, well at least that is what I tell myself. I convince myself that speed is the answer, and I surprisingly find myself stopped, numb, thinking even slower than I walk, because speed might be the answer, but taking it slow is my normal state of mind.
“Don’t take it slow girl!”- I keep telling myself, so I won’t lose track of time or happiness, and I accelerate, until I am out of strength.
Life keeps moving very fast, but I don’t, my mind doesn’t. I have stopped with my mind elsewhere, in some other nonexistent dimension, numb.