Slip sliding

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.


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