Highway ReflectionSometimes I just need to drive.Sometimes I drive everywhere, with the perfect destination I know doesn't exist. And sometimes I drive nowhere, because I finally come to terms with that truth. I roll the windows down and let the pieces of my heart dance and flutter along with the receipts and the fast food napkins. When I'm on the highway, I feel like a single smear of color in the upper left hand corner of a cluttered basement-dwelling oil painting. Even if someone visits the basement, the darkness turns them around. And even when they bring a light, I grace the last place they would ever look. On the highway, that's all I am. A blur of color in a world of people always looking forward, people who won't bother looking sideways because once seen I never will be seen again.