July 27, 2003
Sometimes I want to jump in my car, fill up on gas and drive. It doesn't matter where, but I just don't want to turn around. Go and go and go. On and on and on. I'd find out what the top speed of my little sports car actually is, and I wouldn't stop for anything or anyone - not even myself. The gas would eventually run out, and I'd coast back down to zero. I'd get out of the car and leave it. Walk until I passed out, sleep until I starved. But I'll sleep it all away. Call me a dreamer.