Faster

I forgot I had brakes, just a few inches to the left of my foot that hadn’t touched the gas but I was

still going too fast

I freaked out

Grabbed the shifter and put the car in park without thinking about the consequences for the

engine, transmission, or machinations

I thought I had learned better. Driving was simple, a task I was capable of, but I slipped back into

my infancy, feeling so out of control and forgetting that I knew better

Because...

I thought I could go slower

Wanted to go slower

But it just kept speeding up, and going faster, demanding more and more and more and more and

more and more and more and more and more and more and more and more and more and-- I

couldn’t do it any more

I couldn’t keep up with him

I didn’t want to keep up with him

My driving instructor told me we could spend our lesson navigating neighborhoods at a cool

twenty-five

Twenty-five

Twenty-five minutes later I was going sixty-five on the highway

It was too fast, too much, too stressful, too unfamiliar, too fast

The angel, or maybe the wolf, told me to like it

To find joy and pleasure or something else to motivate

“You shouldn’t dread this experience, “ she’d say, “enjoy it, go further, do more, go faster, be

better, try harder, ignore the pain, stop being in pain, stop wanting to slow down, you can’t stop,

you can’t stop, you can’t stop, go faster.”

I didn’t go fifteen in a twenty-five, I didn’t wait for the lady at the crosswalk, I didn’t do a

perfect L-shaped turn. I was underdeveloped, retarded, an idiot who could kill someone on the

road and needing months more training.

I didn’t touch him first, I didn’t want to go straight to third base on the first date, I didn’t want to

push my boundaries further and further from where I first set them. I was a late-bloomer, a

prude, a good Christian girl who was both no longer a good Christian girl and still disappointing

her boyfriend.

I couldn’t slow down, I couldn’t keep up, I couldn’t go fast enough.

I don’t want to go faster.

Before my instructor had called me retarded, I was meant to take my drivers test the very next

day

Instead I took it a month later- and passed

I even did well

Made only two mistakes

I don’t know why it won’t work the same

We broke up

But the idea of being touched still repulsed me

I had been scared to drive again, and certainly doubted myself, but this was different

I didn’t want to exist

To be seen

Intimacy disgusted me

Yet I longed to be loved

I considered that I didn’t like men

But it wasn’t that

I considered that I didn’t like intimacy

But it wasn’t that

I considered that I didn’t like relationships

But it wasn’t that

I was just so scared of going too fast that I put the car in park

And now I’m scared that I have messed up the engine this time

That love is beyond reach for me

I procrastinate like it’s an old project

Putting everything else first

But I’m always going to have something that comes first until I make it come first

I don’t want it to be first

I don’t want to start

I don’t want to take the car out of park

I’m so scared of going fast that I don’t even want to go slow

I don’t want to go slow, I don’t want to go faster, I don’t want to go at all.