Speeding

There comes a time, I suppose, when you realize that you can’t control or change or monitor anyone but yourself. I reckon it’s the most nerve-wrecking, gut-wrenching, horrifyingly anxious point in life. It’s also peaceful, once you accept it for fact and move on. The unrequited love of Gigi and Iris is at least in the former case a result of impatience. I am myself a class victim of this characteristic, because once I even sense a hint of affection (this strangely enough only applies to romantic affection) it all needs to move at a hundred miles an hour or more (preferably more). Not to say that I need to go somewhere fast, but it suddenly escalates from comfortable, casual and chilled to horribly intense, impatient and inconsistent. I AM Katy Perry’s hot and cold, because all of a sudden feelings are involved in the game, and that’s when the batting and the hitting and the running becomes real important. If you miss or slow down you might end up getting hurt. And God forbid that someone else should take charge over the steering wheel; if you give up the stick, you are no longer in control of direction, speed or safety. You are trusting, and opening up to something that could potentially hurt, and so it’s seems better to keep both hands firmly on the steering wheel and your body tucked behind the safety belt. The flipside to this coin is that if you never let go, you never get surprised. In other words, the love or affection or passion can never be requited, cause you are in charge of every little detail. And still, while being impatient, you expect a surprise. But unless whoever your like of the week or month or year is capable of taming a lion to start speeding next to the car or igniting fireworks while stuck on the ride, crafting a surprise is absolutely impossible. I know I’ve wrecked quite the number of potential somethings by forcing them to stay put while I take the wheel. It becomes such a forceful passion that eventually they are bound to slowly open the door, unlock the safety belt and hope for the best as they jump out of my crazy world that speeds on at an unmeasurable pace. To all past and future victims of my rollercoaster, I apologize.