I always hated the long drive back, it was exactly the same distance as the drive there but the destination sucked big time!
One trip in particular always sticks in my mind. I had travelled with friends to a festival, and spent the weekend getting wasted and naked in a field. It was brilliant, I didn’t want to wake up, just stay there and never come down. But time flew as it does when your having fun, and before I could find myself, I was back on that dreaded journey from whence I came.
Things seemed different this time, I didn’t feel so nervous, and everything around me looked overly colourful and exact as it should be. I felt at peace at least for a little while, until the colours began to drip from the page and leave an empty dirty canvass of a motorway all around for me to look at.
This was it! I was being made to face my demons, being stripped of my happiness and any innocence I had left and hung out to dry with the scarecrows and the fallen heroes, exiled for being too weak! I was too weak, too fragile. I couldn’t handle the pressure bearing down upon me, I needed to get out, but i was travelling too fast and the windows only reflected the state I was in.
I remember thinking that if I ever were alive to look back at this moment in my life and reflect, I would swear to myself and God that I will never ever touch a drop of absinthe for the rest of my days! Oh, and fuck the army!
The author of this series has asked to remain anonymous.