identity

While stopped at a traffic light this morning, I looked at my gas gauge and was disgruntled by the low amount of fuel left in my tank. And of course I began grumbling to myself in my head. All this gas I waste just driving from Point A to Point B, doing the same thing every day. Going to work, going home, going to the grocery store. Going to church, going to the mall, going to places I've been well over a million times in my life. My high school years were practically stagnant and not worth commemoration of any sort. It was someone else's prom, someone else's homecoming, someone else's graduation. I never had a senior year. The years following have felt the same. Someone else's debut party, someone else's wedding, someone else's baby shower. I raise someone else's children.
As I sat at this unnaturally extended red light, I was overcome with a sudden urge to fill my gas tank with the thirty dollars cash I had in my wallet - the only money I have left to my name - and just drive in whatever direction I wanted to go until my car couldn't move forward another centimeter. I wouldn't get very far, maybe to Savannah or Columbia or Myrtle Beach, depending on which way I decided to go, but I'd be somewhere else for a little while.
I'd be someone else...
...The light turned green and I came home.