FINDING THE MIDDLE LANE

Dear Dr. Robles,

Some days, I drive where I just feel like wherever my destination seems like an overnight trip. The road will feel like it will never end, and eventually, I'll drive into a beam of light and disappear soon enough. 

I'll even think of driving straight into the back of someone's car just to see what will happen and believe it will shock my system enough that I'll wake up from whatever deep haze I'm living in. Anything to look for that shock for whatever pain I have inside me.

The window must be open so at least part of the outside world can see me, so the whistle of the wind can acknowledge my existence and see that I'm part of the rat race to nowhere. 

In the middle of the ride, there'll be a split second where I feel my car is going to fly off into the sky, getting sucked up right where I think I belong. There are moments when I might get uncomfortable with the fact there are hundreds of others around in their steel representations of themselves right next to me or running away from me. And at times, I don't believe they are real - they were all dropped in just to watch and ensure I didn't do anything extreme. 

Finally, I will arrive at where I need to be by reminding myself that I've been held down and had a mask glued to my face that has periodically changed how I think and view the world. The mask has been on long enough that it has seeped into my brain chemistry, feeding terrible suggestions about myself and others. Fortunately, I have learned to embrace this new type of skin care for the better and not for the worse. 

Seeing both sides of life, internalizing the gray shade of viewing, and blending it into your color is not easy, but it can be valuable when you can. 

I have lived half a life, but enough to realize quickly that the mask I was forced to wear is my choice and no one else's. I have come to terms with the reality that these lights will turn off someday, and I'll be forced to meet the Puppet Master to either thank him or want to strangle them. But what I see now is what is in front of me. And wherever my current is guiding me is where I should and need to be. 

Obviously, every day isn't white-knuckling it or wanting to lose the grip. There shouldn't be an urge to disappear into a puddle of lubrication just to feel the opposite of what you think now because there is no middle ground. I don't know how I can get to that middle ground or if I ever will.

I might not believe that people admire me, want to laugh with me, or want to hear what I want to say for the rest of my time here. And I might never come to terms with the idea that a handful of people might think of me in a positive light from time to time. 

Sincerely,

Knox