Love is like a road trip; an overwhelming journey filled with uncertainties and transparency. It kicks into gear but doesn’t accelerate because everything is new and needs to be felt out so it can be figured out whether the engine can stand the test of time. The passenger that was brought along slowed it down with little to no traction, but the driver was an expert and was more confident, it led to speed, and the love shifted into high gear.
The wear and tear that resided within the passenger was still present, which caused the driver to park to fix and repair what needed to be taken cared of, but the driver could never get the change desired, so the love started up again, but the motion was different. It became bumpy, but it was expected, after all, who ever said love was easy? Who ever said sudden road trips heading to no pinpointed location would happen easily? Love is easy, and road trips fairly are, it’s just the pair that complicates it, especially with no guidance. Though there were bumps in the road, the pair enjoyed it. They drove each other crazy and were difficult but it was within their system, and only they knew how to navigate through that.
The passenger built trust and was able to sit back and let the driver direct them. The passenger became lax, and the trip showed its adventures because it was mysterious and that’s what gave it the thrill. The driver was thrilling and oh so smooth but bad, the passenger was flirting with what could be dangerous, but how could anyone resist a rollercoaster of a ride? It was trust, and it went from being seated on the right side to the back seat…. but no seat belt.
But being on the road for so long can create a disconnect because where are you going? When will you get there? If you get there at all. Running low on energy and seemingly nothing can ignite the fuel. The driver who was partially the protector wasn’t certain about the destination any longer, unbeknownst to the passenger, even though at times doubt would peek from the rearview mirror. But all the attention on the rearview, none was paid toward the side, and it crashed. Two years and a half and they finally crashed. From the beginning, the passenger was told to enjoy the ride, but where was the enjoyment when they were on the verge of spiraling out of control? There they stood at a crossroads, and they were either to take one together and find a way to drive off into the sunset or split so each could walk away to find their own.
They split, and the driver didn’t look back once. He drove so he’d lead himself somewhere, whereas the passenger was left like a lost child, but she’d have to pick herself off the road, but not after grieving first.
It was supposed to be a ride or die thing, an “I got your front, you got my back” thing, and “If one of us is running out of gas, the other refills the tank” thing, an “If some parts break, we repair them together” thing. That’s what makes love truly unbreakable and durable. However, what if both of them ran out or neither had the tools, what happens then? The ride ended too soon, and by the break of dawn, they may remember the time when they rode for each other and shared love.
They’re set on different paths now, but eventually, they’ll cross. They have to because like everything with them it’s either fixed by fate or a mere coincidence.
ellievsbear
baratheonpilled
discoholicmusic
prguitarman
stormborns
