Blizzard Jar

I felt like I could have kept driving. Like I should have kept at it, heading sturdily further, heading onward. I could have gone for miles in the storm, barely seeing where I drove, forcing my way through the fog and through the wind and through the snow, stopping only at random gas stations to pick up something to eat and to get warm and to fill up the tank, ignoring how the money on my bank account would soon decrease. I'd just keep driving, radio turned off, or possibly tuned in on some channel barely accessible, low volume. I'd have my cell in my baggy jeans pocket, and if it rang I'd talk some and if anyone asked me where I was I would go, "I'm out driving".
We keep driving into the night... except that today was day, and I was driving on my own, never been so happy to be alone. I need my space. I need to drive through the blizzard, pretending like things are getting to the better, pretending things aren't really here.
That my demons aren't real.
POET in the BLIZZARD JAR