I can’t get that girl out of my mind. “Remember my face,” fucking useless words etched into my brain forever. Well maybe the rest of the week, but the next few days all I will be thinking about is, is she alive or dead. I’m sure every once in a while I’ll think of her again but I won’t care as much as I do now. Though to be honest it is the statement that has me thinking about her not so much her as a person.
“Remember my face,” Fucking why? “Taking a ride from someone I don’t know.” What are you running from? Why do people do this to themselves? I don’t care I want to scream, but of course I do and I will have to until something else distracts my mind. A moment is a moment to a writer. It becomes something greater as a whole because it is strange and strange is interesting.
It is an unanswered conversation that plays over and over in our heads. Consumes and relates to every decision or thought. There are way too many possibilities behind something as small as coincidence. A life time of decisions in a thirty-second conversation. “In case I go missing,” who puts themselves in situations that they may not return from? How do you not know that this isn’t the right thing to do? What could it be that you are running from?
The past and the future haunts us all, and it is called the present. Can’t out run any of this. Doesn’t stop anyone from trying though. I hope she is still alive, but I stand by what I told her. “Your actions are your own.” If I really cared I would have said more. I didn’t so I guess I don’t.