The destination is less important than the driving.
Highway sounds block out my thoughts, making it possible to figure out answers
instead of creating more questions.
[This road is the perfect listener.]
I silently scream underwater, where no one else can hear. It’s only then I feel the tension leave. The black line blurs through my tears and I know
I’ll finally breathe again, at least until next time.
[Even anchors must let go of their ships eventually.]