Out of control. Heading for the ditch. Wheels squealing. Screaming.
Advice swirls inside my head, bouncing off the car windows. Pump the brakes. Steer left. Don’t fight the wheel.
I try. Everything. Anything.
Still. I can’t stop. I can’t be still.
Momentum. Inertia. Physics.
It dictates where I land. Predicts my route.
Stomach in knots. White knuckled. Eyes wide open. Eyes closed shut.
I’m moving in directions opposite of the road I want to be on. Something will stop me from going over the edge. A rock. A tree. A guardrail.
Somehow I’ll make it. Somehow I’ll be ok.
For now, I’m spinning. Slipping. Sliding. Swerving.
After all, this is adulthood.