The Drive Back
Coolmac
Date:
10/03/2003
It has been one year, to the day.
The passing of the roadside had been little more than blur since I had left the highway. My mind elsewhere, I seemed to take the various corners and sharp bends as though by autopilot. The road seemed somehow more real, less vivid, not quite the amazing beauty that I remembered. The tree's form a canopy over the road and looking up through the sunroof to watch the blur of orange and brown rush by seems to drag my mind back to the present. The autumn leaves have started to fall, they whirl in the wind forming small whirlpools along the roadside that disperse chaotically into the road as my car passes.
It has been one year, since that day. This long trip is approaching its end.
The tree's thin out as I approach the coastline, replaced by shorter bushes and grasses. The road straightens out from here, only a few more minutes to go and I'll be there. I dread it more than anything I've ever feared in my useless life, yet I anticipate it with an almost manic glee, a lusting, a desire that should not be there. I guess I've been waiting for this for one long year, at first it was probably little more than a subconscious knowledge that I'd return, but slowly it crept into my daily thoughts. I fought it, that I did, but it was a battle I never had a chance of winning. Feeling what I feel doesn't leave much room for happy thoughts, and the blackness that has settled in my soul tortures me in a way that cannot be ignored.
The last corner approaches, and as turn into it I pull the car off to the side of the road. My fingers are shaking, I fumble the keys when I take them out the ignition, and they fall, tinkling, under the seat. No matter, I won't need them anymore.
It has been one year, and finally I have returned.
It's windy, the grass leading up to the cliff face is blown flat. I fumble at the door and eventually get it open, as I climb out the car the wind pushes me back, leaning into it and start making my way towards the edge. Its almost as though it doesn't want me there, as though its telling me to go back home. Well, I've come this far, and its going to take more than wind to stop me now; my own nagging doubts maybe. How could the wind possibly know the pain I feel, the despair that has plagued me for too long now.
Why I could not continue with life as it had been before, I do not know. I tried, my psychiatrist told me it would all get better, although I am sure he did not believe half of what I told him. I'm surprised I didn't end up in an asylum. I'm glad I didn't, they would have kept me alive and dulled my thoughts with their drugs. I remember her smile, how it seemed to make everything seem better. She made me happy, I laughed back then, not any more. I can almost laugh at how naive I was, how I earnestly believed things would never change, how my life was complete. The cynic in me has taken control, it gained strength every day until it was me, all that I am; it seems that it is hard to see anything good any more. Ending it all seems good, the one bright light... no, the one happy darkness in the darkness.
The waves are particularly violent today, crashing against the cliff below, a white fury of foam. I hope they won't break my fall too much, that would be most unfortunate. Now it just remains for me to do what I've come here to do, take the final step.
It has been on year, and now I will know what she felt.
It hurt so much to watch her fall and not be able to stop it. Most people would have screamed, panicked; I had just watched, stunned, almost emotionless. She had been the same, looking up at me as she fell, her eye's never leaving mine until the fall came to its end. She should have never been so close to the edge, but she never felt any fear. Live is to short for fear she used to say, yet life has been too long without her. I take the step.
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