This post was originally composed in February 2018.
Falling for someone and moving on for the first time is like taking on a highway the first time you get behind the wheel: you’ve only seen driving from the passenger’s side, but now you’re living in the driver’s seat.
Everything happens so fast.
I found myself cutting corners more often, stopping for less time at stop signs and merging without a signal? Why? Because I became too comfortable in my own reality.
I became too accustomed to having the air conditioning, the music, the speed, all at the tips of my fingers. Everything about the driving experience was at my mercy. And I loved it. I loved that I could zoom ahead of other cars and blast my 90s music with the windows down. I loved feeling invincible.
I lived so much in this euphoria of reality that I ignored my surroundings. I only paid attention to my lane of traffic— and I ignored the possibilities of what his could be.
And that was the greatest hazard.
Because before I knew it, I had crossed another lane of traffic — his.
And when I found out we were riding in separate vehicles not just now, but the entire time —
I realized I was the victim of my own reality.
A shard of glass darted from my side view mirror and into my chest.
It pierced my heart in a place it has never been hurt before.
And it ached for months.
After this accident, I learned not paying attention to the cars next to you really does have its consequences. [no duh]
Relationships have two lenses, in fact multiple lenses, through which one can view a reality.
However, if people neglect to understand, or even ask about the lenses of another person, they will never truly know the other reality in which they live, but are a part of.
I refused to acknowledge that he was driving in a separate lane than I was, in fact, I refused to even consider that we were in separate vehicles.
I thought we were in the same car, enjoying the same ride.
But we were in fact, in separate vehicles, with different destinations.
And they were my assumptions that caused me to crash.
From that day on, I know to establish a destination prior to beginning a new “relationship,” or ride with someone.
Yes, the spontaneity of it all was fun, invigorating and full of laughs and good conversation.
But in the end, it hurt to know that the final destination was a last goodbye.
Now, I know this: Before stepping out into the empty road that is life, I must speak up. I must ask “where are we going?” prior to hitting the gas pedal.
Because I did not know the rules and because I traveled down a highway no one had ever ventured before, I was ignorant.
And it was my ignorance of the rules that lead to my crash.
They say that you should not regret anything in life, and this is one of those experiences that I do not regret.
To the person who allowed me to grow, recover and become stronger after the crash: thank you. Thank you for making an impact on me, even if the after-shock continues to sting.
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