Pillow Fight

I could walk out infront of a car.

I mean, it doesn't seem like a bad idea. It would excuse me frm daily life. People would feel bad and leave me alone to do whatever made me happy...if I survived. I'd be worry-free. As I bent to the car, people would finally bend to me.

I watched the car approaching and tried to decide.

It would be a pure rush, like a roller coaster ride. It would suck after, but that moment right before-- that anticipation, likea pillow fight, never knowing the exact mment, but that it was coming, was the thing that would make it worth it.

And I watched that car a block away contemplating.

If I do- that's it.If I don't, do I regret that I don'tor be grateful to be able to think about this all over again tomorrow?

The car approached.

...yeah, that car was going a lot faster than I thought. I made an excuse. I need a slightly slower car to have at least some suspense as to whether or not I'd make it for everyone that was witnessing.

I'll stick with pillowwws.

So instead of going to the store, I turn around mid-journey. I go home to have a pillow fight. With myself. Before I can see any slow cars on the road.

I smoosh the fluffy goodness into my rigid face until it molds to it, becoming clay with the moisture of my ever shallowing breaths sealing the two ungrateful bags of air inside my underserving chest just so that I can get a glimpse of what it is like after that mooment of awe before getting hit with a car.