to write freely part one

I should be sleeping but I turned around instead. I thought I could make it on foot. My thighs start to ache with restlessness. I want to run and feel my soles slap against pavement and tar until the arches of my feet are ripped and ridged.
I think it's about time you came driving back now. I saw you stocked up on gas tanks and water bottles, so when are you leaving, just tell me, I only want to know, and I'm not going to try to stop you. If you go, I will watch you leave. I will pack a cooler and make a sandwich and knit a sweater. I am there with you when your exhaust pipe puffs its last gasp of Floridian air. But I hope you have to guts to follow through. It's an open road out there, and it stretches for miles and weeks at that, and time is something that disappears when your money runs out.
So I pressed my ear to the ground to hear the tires squeak against the gravel. I love the sound of leaving, when life is beginning again. I'm happy when the light is fading and when my skin looks pale because the stars are few under these orange streetlamps and smog.
This is what life is going to be like now. It's going to keep going, and it's not going to stop. With every year that goes by, I wonder how I made it this far. I don't think it's going to be this way forever but it's hard to believe that something is going to change when it never does. Now I know this drum will beat my heart to death.
The sky faded into an opaque eggshell white, and I watched the sun dip beneath the ground. I wondered how hot it gets under there. I saw the road stretch into sand and roll on its back, and the spine of the freeway was buzzing, letting go of everything it once held on to, because what does the road have to worry about, what should the road have to love? It can just keep going. I
And I wish I could keep going. I feel like this is a pitstop a resting place a hospice a vacation home I want to get out of here but no one cares. I want to live life continuously and fearlessly. And I want to believe that my life is all there is and that there is nothing to live for after I die. But I know the truth, and that's why I feel that I must change. I don't want to, though, that's the truth.
If I have to be completely honest here it's to say that nothing is ever going to be the same for me. I don't want to know anyone just like they don't want to know me. I don't care to know what you are really going to be like because i know it's something I won't like, possibly something horrible.
But maybe if I was getting hurt, my life would be more interesting. Maybe if you hit me, it would make me feel alive. I guess it's sick to say, but I like it when my heart is hurting in someone else's hands. At least then I can show someone and tell them I am not in control of this. Bad things are going to happen to me, and that's the way it's going to be forever. I think it should be a profession to feel sorry for oneself because I think we all do it so convincingly.
But then I think, what do we really have to be afraid of? What in life has been as good as this? I know I have had it worse, and although at times you are just like the others with the way you look at me, I can see what you really want and who you really are. Yes, I know my mouth is big, I talk so much, I talk too damn much, and I should keep my mouth shut if I ever know what's good for me, and I need to sit on my hands to stop twitching my feet and moving my wrists and cracking my knuckles because everyone is going to see, sooner or later, that I'm not as like them as they think. I don't know how I blend in with the rest of society when I know exactly what I stand for and that the way I act is the exact opposite.
It's getting kind of late. This is how I am, but that doesn't mean I can live with it. I wonder when the self absorption will stop and if we'll ever stop feeling sorry for ourselves, and if I will always have to apologize for wasting everybody's time.