Time to myself.

Time to myself is a dangerous thing.

As I drive the back country roads on my way home from work in Agawam, Mass to the slums of Rockville, where driving ten miles takes you 35 minutes, I realize I'm restless again. I hate numb, numb is sadly comfortable right now. And in the very least, numb is a feeling... And now that Joey Sky is with Grandma and Grandpa for a few more weeks, I find myself even more restless and misunderstood.

It's no lie that I am confident and have my head on straight, it;s just that I've accomplished so much in the last few years, I feel that I've lost direction and don't know where to go next.

The open window blows cool summer air through my purple hair and the smell of my clove cigarette drifts out my window, my eyes hidden by the dark brown lenses of my sunglasses, I should be enthralled by beauty, but it was just another commute to get home. I should hit the gym tonight, to train for the marathon, but I can't bring myself to steer my car in that direction. I miss driving in the larger cities and seeing the variety of people.

I'm a people watcher by nature, and everyone has a story, when I used to drive through Hartford, I used to make up great stories for the people that I was passing. I used to give them great lives, but the ones that looked worn out and run down, I gave them great tragedies. But each person had a different story.

I sometimes wondered if the person at the bus stop was doing the same for me. Thinking I was on my way home from a great high paying job to go home and get dinner ready for my husband and children and then feed the left overs to my dog. Then we'd all sit around the table playing board games... I too imagined them imagining a different life for me. That was when the living day by day caught up with me. I've tried to live for each moment and in the meantime, missed the greater goals in life...

Don't get me wrong... I'm just lonely right now. For as much as I say I'm ok being alone, most of the time I am... but then I have a family to come home to, right now I don't.

The trees wrap around Route 83 and the roads narrow, my mind sometimes drifts to the day that the roads were started with covered wagons. How life was just life. When women married young and had large families. Where even if they weren't content, they had to accept what life they had.

I blow my last stream of sweet smelling smoke out the window and toss the butt out the window and wonder if I would have made it back then, or if I would have caused waves...

I snap back to the song on the iPod. It's a friend of mine singing a song for a girl he loves. The vocals are off and the song wasn't mastered right. I don't care, it makes me want to fall in love all over again. And I need to hear his voice right now. It always brings me comfort. For a moment I pretend he's singing it for me.

My mind races to a time where it could have been, if only we hadn't been so blind. It's true, you never do get over your first love, and if only I had been his, perhaps he could have loved me the way I loved him. But the memories we had were fond and loving and I don't regret letting him have my heart, even if I couldn't have had his. I can only avoid the true pain in his voice by fooling myself into thinking that if the song wasn't meant for me in some small way, he wouldn't have sent it to me.

Could it have been different, should it have been different? My mind races and brings me to a similar, but different spot:

For all the men who regret losing me, it brings me no solace. It brings only hurt. The old line of "It's not you it's me..." no longer holds water. I know it's me. I push people away because I can't feel anymore. Or maybe I don't want to feel.... Sometimes feeling numb is better than the pain. And I'm getting to old to feel anything anymore.

You see, I'm not looking for marriage, but I've figured out that if no one is willing to fight for me, I can only fight for myself. And if I do end up alone, well then I won't be disappointed.

It sucks to have people walk away and then want to come back. I can't go back, but not out of strenght, out of fear. History has a way of repeating itself, you know.

I glance out the window and see the Castle very close to the corners of Route 83 and Route 286. Routes. When did I decide that driving routes with numbers instead of streets with names was the way I wanted to live? It bothers me that I'm so far away from the city. I love the cities. And I now work with a private company that deals with only farmers? I really like my new job, but when did I become a country girl?

The road slowly turns to a little bit more of a civilazation... I see a grocery store on the horizon. I need groceries.I have some bread and mac and cheese at home. I've got one extra roll of toilet paper, and I need dish soap, and maybe some more bread...I should stop, but I don't I keep going until I hit the liquor store.

I wonder around the store a little bit checking out the bottles of wine. I pick up a couple of bottles of Beringer Wines. Maybe I thought of my sister and her up coming wedding. Dear God how I hate weddings. It's only 3 weeks since the engagement and my sister's already become a Bridezilla.

I pull out of the parking lot with two bottles of wine and a 6 pack of Sam Adams Cherry Wheat beer. The street I usually take is closed. The bridge is ou and that pisses me off. The machinery hasn't moved in weeks.

I pull into my parking space and my neighbor is sitting on the porch. I open my back door of my car and make a comment about a dinner party so I don't look like a lush. I'm sure he knows I'm lying, but doesn't call me out on it.

I text my friend Bullets and ask if he's up for a beer. "No sorry kind of busy but thank you sweetie." I text back that maybe we can get together over the weekend. I'm lonely right now and could really use someone to spend time with. Someone to share a living space with me for a couple of hours someone with whom I care about. But I don't tell him that, I don't want to seem vunerable.

I power up my computer and decide that I need to hear my friend singing to me. I let myself fall into that fantasy for a while as my second Cherry Wheat coats my stomach and the aromatic air of the clove drifts from my ash tray. Perhaps there is a slight romantic side in me. The side that longs for the high school crushes of long ago... Way before my heart was shattered time and time again, long before I became bitter and jaded.

My phone beeps with a new text message and I'm drawn out of my wonderlust. It's Bullets.

"Maybe".

-Metal