In the darkest hours of some nights, I lay awake restless. I yearn for sleep but it never comes. So I get dressed and go stare out of the window at the driveway. As my thoughts continue to race, I grab my keys and walk out the door. Charlotte is different at 3:00 AM: no traffic, the sidewalks are empty minus the homeless. It’s a dark, blank canvas to paint my memories upon as I drive about.
Some nights, it’s a quiet cruise through the all the neighbourhoods that moulded me. Some nights, it’s 130 MPH on I-485 trying to outrun it all. The thing is when you don’t really like who you are you do more than regret. You either find yourself wallowing in self-pity or trying to run away from it all at any given time. What you don’t realise is life doesn’t function that way.
You definitely can’t outrun the past, because your past is you. Your future is you too. You try to force change upon yourself to become a “better” person but deep down you never really change. Your circumstances change, people in your life change, but you don’t change. Your behaviours may adjust over time, but you’re always the same person.
It’s not as bleak as it sounds though, over time everything comes together to deliver fleeting glances at happiness even if you hate yourself. It might not mend the shitty decisions you’ve made over time, but it’s something to live for. At 130 MPH on an empty interstate this is the only level of clarity you’ll get. You don’t get a complete answer, you definitely don’t get closure.
There’s really no such thing as closure. Even if you apologise and are completely honest with people you’ve hurt, closure is an empty dream. The only closure we have is death. Time and any other emotional pursuits you choose won’t make you forget that. Even when you’ve spent all of your emotional energy saying you’re sorry. Even when you know you have a chance to begin doing the right things. Even when you’re driving at 3:00 AM and can’t even see the road through your tears.
I make it home with enough time to go back to bed. And I sleep. Not because I feel any better. Not even because I’m tired. I fall asleep because at that moment there’s not much else I want to do. At that moment sleep is the only thing that can keep me from facing who I am any more.