They should make up a word for the infinite solitude that takes over your soul during long drives in the still of the night; drives longer than your playlist; in roads where the lights go off for a kilometer or so to save on their vigor for when more souls pass by.
This poet stood on stage all dejected, his shoulders falling, and spoke of such solitude with great sincerity; and I knew exactly what he was talking about.
The quietness, the grave-like stillness, the immense feeling of being alone in this world; and the alarming closeness to the border.
And the rush of Adrenaline in your veins when you know in your bones that you could drive ahead without turning back once and somehow everything would still be the same behind, and everyone would still get on with their lives like nothing ever happened..
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