i drove home.

by - 9/23/2017



I drove home.

and i wanted to tell you that i'm hurting everywhere, and nowhere, and that everything is a whole lot of nothing all at the same time, and that i don't know, but i didn't, because what you tell yourself matters and sometimes what i tell myself is that i'm hurting and then i have to believe it.

so i drove home.

i like drives home! you know where you're gong and you've got the sensation of where you've been, so everything makes sense. and you've got excitement or disappointment or anxiety or a whole lot of nothing but you know that at the end of it you're going to get in bed and sleep for a long, long time. and you'll be okay. maybe. or you won't but at least you'll be somewhere familiar. today i wanted to sink into the blankets and i wanted to not get up and i wanted to let it hit me again and again and again and again.

i don't know what i wanted to hit me, now, but it felt like a mighty big fist.

driving is weird because sometimes you've got your hands on the wheel but it doesn't feel like it. it's like people say: life is like driving a car. except we don't like to talk about the times when you're in control and you know you're in control, but at the same time it doesn't feel like you're there!! it doesn't feel like you're in the car at all! it's like when you dream about driving. you're watching your hands on the wheel. the back of your brain knows that you're driving a two-ton death trap and your control of the wheel matters, but that hasn't hit your skin yet. you pull into the parking lot and feel the weirdest sense of relief that's stupid because you had control the whole time. 

so i drove home with little tinny speakers telling me they're gonna light the world on fire or whatever else they meant. the foot that wasn't on the gas tapped on the floor of the car in time with the beats. i felt okay about it.

(okay is a weird word. it ranges from bad-okay to good-okay to i-don't-want-to-give-another-answer-but-this-is-neutral-okay.)

see, the weird thing is, i didn't mean for this to be all about driving, but that's the way it turned out anyway. which is usually how it works for me. i just type until something comes out that i didn't mean but kind of like. it's fine. it's fine. it's fine.

today i drove home and i thought about people i don't usually think about and it's weird that you think most about people you don't talk to anymore. it's fine, really, it's settled in by now, but there's still this stinging curiosity that comes with it every time. i've always liked poking at scabs to see how much it hurts.

i don't write poetry, i swear i don't. 

hi, right now i feel very small and lonely. a little bit like this text size.

i know. i know the truth. i know that i am not defined by the wars in my head. i know that i belong to something Bigger and Higher, that i am covered in Grace, that the person who made the universe has got me too. i know that. and it's comforting. it's beautiful. the other day i got to walk on the ocean and i cried because i'm a small little thing compared to oceans but He made me anyway! that's pretty freaking cool! but while i'm here, while i'm the physical body that i am, i'm going to hurt, and i'm going to feel it, and i haven't figured out how to stop that whole thing yet. probably you don't. you just keep going. 

i'm keeping going. i drove home today. 

you've got to feel things! i know that too. so i'm...feeling things. and it feels like a whole lot of *insert twenty-seven blank lines here and then a few more for good measure*. it feels like i want to write poetry, which i don't do, because i like things flat-out and stated plainly and in blunt words. so nothing is like that right now. it feels like *scribbles madly on paper*

i drove home today, so you don't have to worry about me, because i made it. and i'll make it home again and again and again. and i'll be safe. i like driving home. it means i have a second to breathe.

i drove home.

i wanted to tell you a lot of things. i don't know who you is. but i wanted to tell you! but i drove home instead.

sometimes that's all i've got.


- Aimee


(I don't know what that was either, y'all. It just felt right. How are you today?)

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11 Comments

  1. sometimes we don't have the right words and that's fine. sometimes it's okay to just not know. i think this might be my favorite post because it's just Aimee writing blunt truths that we can all relate to without grammar and without the fancy captions. it's just you. and that's fine with me. <3 <3 <3

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  2. I love the poetry and rhythm of this. There is something about driving home that does feel so familiar, like an exhale. It's so comforting to end up at the same place in the same car and feel the weight of a routine. And those quiet drives can be the best times for thinking and reflecting! :)

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    1. Very glad people liked my sappy poetry :P

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  3. reading this was the strangest feeling of heartbreaking and comforting. keep driving home, okay? i love you.

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  4. Keep driving home. Keep believing. Keep going. I hope these words make me do the same too. Keep feeling. loved this post so much.xx

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  5. This was really gorgeously written, you're super poetic in a unique stream-of-consciousness way. Anyway, love this post, keep going, hope you're having a good senior year!

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  6. This is the only kind of poetry I understand. You hit me in the feels real good :') Also I really like the use of small text asides and *stuff in asterisks* which is normally reserved for text/tumblr talk...poetry's got to evolve with language and this really does. It breaks the mold. Good job :)

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  7. reading this for the third time tonight. 1:30am and just *sigh* ❤️ I love this one, and you too.

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