chasing cars

one day, I saw a car going by with my fourteen-year-old self in the driver's seat. he wasn't even the one driving the car. it was hate that was driving the car, fueling the car, steering the car, because the car was a vessel for the thoughts crammed in that trunk which acts as the engine the engine was in the back of the car. that's right; it was the type of car that goes really fast except when you're stuck in traffic then you're on the same speed as everyone else. but there was no traffic there was nothing stopping the car the car traveled at the speed of light, but you see, the thing with traveling at the speed of light, is that it's hard to stop, easy to lose control, and time flies away with you, no matter how little you enjoy the ride. one day, I was passing by a car wreck two cars of the same type, same color, same age, the hoods perfectly crushed into each other the windshields making contact and I looked at the boy from earlier, and saw that he had aged four years.