My Getaway Car: 28 Days

She is my getaway car. She makes me happy when I can't see past the black mist of misery. She is the life jacket that saves me from drowning. How she does this, I do not know. But if she ever stops, I will be washed away from the surface of this planet.

I cannot believe only 28 days are left before my getaway car arrives. And I still got so much to do before then. For the last few day I have been trying to stop myself from thinking about it. I don't want to make any plans so I wont be disappointed. All I want to do is get out there and forget about everything awaiting for me back here.

For some mysterious reason I can't think of anything else to write. It seems I have so much to say, I can't think of where to begin. I spend the biggest part of the day listening to music. And now I'm not sure how I am feeling. Don't get me wrong. Apart from Julia, music is the only thing the can make me really happy (or stable at least) and make me cry at the same time. But it kind of comes with a package. It bring out things inside of me I rather keep locked at the back of my head. Maybe it is a good thing in the long term: releasing the demons that haunt me at night. However, short term speaking it feels shit. The strangest or most fascinating thing about music is how it can have so many different meanings to different people. For example, one shit pop song can mean something miles away to me compared to what it means to the next person that walks past my house. And if I fail my exams next week, I can blame music because instead of revising I have been looking up lyrics or singing or dancing or just laying down and losing myself in the beautiful sound coming out of my speakers. Taking every word like it is a breath of life. Like it is my savior. My hero.