Road Trip

I was trapped in a moving minivan. The world was speeding by me, accented by the streetlights sliding by my window, and I had no way out. Seat belted in to insanity, I stripped my soul apart from my physical body. I couldn't take my body with me because it had been sequestered into the seat by my mom, my dad, and my sister. Family.

They say that friends are the family you choose for yourself. What about your family family, then? The actual unchosen few who you're stuck with for life because you can't change your DNA and are too lazy to run away and change your name? So long, relations, my soul can take no more. I seeped through the window and jumped from the hood of the car to the roof. Then a quick leap onto the quickly approaching overpass and I'd reach freedom.

Oops… the overpass didn't catch me. I slammed under the car and was repeatedly run over by the heavy traffic in the middle of the night. Where was everyone going at 1am? Nowhere. No one is going anywhere, but my family is repeatedly running over me. My mom, my dad, my sister. Each one tramples me as the cars wheels return to my battered soul.

They discovered the empty body. It angered them. They aren't inhuman. I am. I am the one who separated my body and my soul. I wasn't supposed to do that.

I awoke with a sneeze. I was still here in my body. The minivan carried on; the streetlights slid by. Family road trips may not be all fun, but important relationships are still developed in the tiny moving vehicle. These people love me unconditionally, and I love them the same. (Sometimes I have a hard time liking them though.)