distraction

Computers are just a distraction to my goals. They are a road block, sitting in between where I am now, and where I want to get to. About four years ago, I pulled the chips out of my computer, and had my friend place them in his freezer, for cold storage. The events of those past years were nightmarish, but I wonder if it was really I who was at the steering wheel during that time. I believe I am ready to put that into words:

All words are deceptive, these are no different.

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The short ride from my house to the police station was bumpy and silent from the caged rear seat of a police van. The men who apprehended me in the night felt no need to turn on the sirens and no need to hurry. In their eyes, I was unimportant and harmless, and besides, it wasn't an arrest. Had there been sirens and handcuffs, I would have felt better. This silence, this static numbness horrified me. Had I done anything wrong? Chances are, yes. I am guilty. I had lied to myself, my friends, and the police. But where's the harm? I prepared for another round of lies meant to keep myself out of jail. I clawed at the bars on the window, and realised my life will, from now on, be different.

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Silence is the sound of wheels churning in the black. I sit above these wheels in the back seat of the police van, making its way to the station. The sirens are lifeless, and the officers drive carefree with gentle turns and soft feet on the pedals. They explain to me, "We need you to come to the station with us." I submit. I see no handcuffs, no batons. I get nervous. They seem so casual. I am terrified out of my mind and I hurt my fingers trying to claw open the bars on the window. I know my life will, from now on, be different.

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