TW: Suicidal Ideation, Self-loathing, Mentions of Disordered Eating
Whein is driving well over the speed limit. They regret not taking that road trip with their friends that they had proposed all those years ago. It was a joke, but they could have convinced them.
It would have been amazing. The sun in their face and the wind in their hair. Whining for food every five minutes to whoever got stuck driving. Waiting until they pull onto the freeway to ask for a bathroom break.
Gods it would have been amazing. Everyone would have a good laugh at whatever shenanigans they could pull. Watching the countryside go by, getting excited whenever a horse comes up, or a cow.
Fighting over who gets to play music, fighting over who drives, so much fighting. Exhausting sure, but exhilarating all the same. When the sun sets, watching the sun go down and the moon rise. The fight over who had to drive the night, and eventually giving in and pulling over.
The cuddle pile in the back. Surrounded by blankets and seeing the stars out the window. A lullaby of its own, being able to hear heartbeats. Waking up in the morning with that sleepy mindset, curling further into the others’ embrace.
They should have taken that road trip.
They should have tried harder. They should have done something. They should have done anything at all, instead of letting life get its victory.
They lift their foot from the gas when they glance at the speedometer. They’re tempted to keep it there, tempted to let it press down to the floor, watch the scenery turn to blurs.
They’re hungry. It’s been a while since they ate. It’s been a while since they last drank either. It could be a good thing, no need to stop for bathroom breaks. It could be a bad thing, their stomach is twisting itself into knots and their mouth is dry.
The familiar nauseousness ties together their fragmented perception of everything. It’s grounding in its familiarness. It’s too familiar, just the same from the day-to-day that they are trying so desperately to leave behind. It’s familiar in the same way a candle is familiar and the same way the urge to set everything ablaze is familiar.
There’s nothing about this that is familiar. They’re on a road that they’ve never seen before, surrounded by only dirt and the scorching sun. They can see mountains in the distance but they are not their own. It is unfamiliar land, they have never seen it and it has never seen them. Now that it does, it gazes upon them, judging whether they are worthy of setting foot on these lands.
They don’t know what state they’re in now, they don’t pay much attention to signs. It’s been about five hours since they started driving, the sun no longer low in the sky. If they could bring themselves to look at the clock they would know exactly how time has passed.
It’s before noon they know, the sun is lower in the sky than it would be. They’ve always been good at guessing the time with light levels. Wasted potential.
They still have a long way to go. They don’t know where they’re going but it’s clear that this isn’t enough. Maybe they’ll cross the country just to drive their car into the sea. Or maybe they’ll run out of gas and get lost in the seemingly endless expanse of dirt.
Hopefully, they’ll hit the land that actually has grass and trees before that happens. They started with a full tank, they had filled it up that morning. Or rather, last morning now. Time does not hold any meaning out here on the roads miles from any people. It lessens its grip until you can freefall through it, losing minutes or hours or days.
It’s mostly empty by now, but they’re close to the next town from what they can tell. After a while of driving, you start to recognize the patterns of where people settle. So even if they run out of gas, they should be close enough to walk or at least close enough to get service.
Maybe they don’t want to try.
The car is fine enough. Though they’ll have to get an energy drink when they stop for gas, their hands are shaky. That might be the hunger. They can’t quite get themselves on board with stopping to eat or even get snacks. Maybe they’ll faint from hunger. Maybe their vision will start to grey out until they can no longer see the steering wheel.
People don’t usually pass out from hunger in such a small time, but they haven't eaten for a day at least, maybe more. If they ate regularly and not like they have an eating disorder they wouldn’t pass out from going a day without eating. If their body was any kind of healthy and not half-dead already, they might be able to withstand a beating. Too bad.
If they pass out behind the wheel there’s no one to hit. They’re at peace with dying like this. There are many ways they don’t want to go out, but this isn’t one. It’s rather peaceful compared to the ways that they’ve thought about. They’ve thought they were going to die several times before, but none as peaceful as this. None as perfect as this.
Why else would they have driven out across states with nothing to their name but their wallet?
It was impulsive, not a suicide attempt. They don’t care if they survive. They probably will. They just needed to go. This was not a goodbye, just like no day of their life was ever a goodbye. It doesn’t matter when they are at peace with dying because they’ve made their peace with Death.
They speed up again, this time on purpose. They want to make it to the gas station already. They want to go park somewhere and enjoy an energy drink. Hopefully, they have more than just the white one.
The white one is fine, it’s good, but they like the blue and red ones better. Godsdamned they are hard to find though. They’ve had almost every colour by now, just missing the black one. They would drink the regular ones and the coffees but they just never have the time and coffee fucks them up in a way they don’t like.
They still have a while to go. More expanses of dirt and desert to go through. Actually, it might not be desert anymore. What states are deserts? It doesn’t really matter, they guess. Just more road to go down. Just more minutes ticking by. At least it’ll be shorter because they’re ignoring the speed limit.
The hope they die out here. They hope they survive. It doesn’t really matter. This isn’t a road trip they’ll come back from either way.
That’s the point whether they die or not.