Prepare yourself. When you eat a peanut butter sandwich, prepare yourself. You will need something to drink. Any man who tells you otherwise is a damn dirty liar. I suggest you make them prove it. Water is good. I washed mine down with soda, but I'm too badass for good. Still, water is good. How can there be a drought when we live on the coast? I washed mine down with soda. That part is true. The other half is a lie. I am no more a bad-assed than Vida Guerra, but I do only own one cup, and that leads to some tough decisions, mostly regarding what to fill it with, and otherwise just theorizing on the philosophy of a cup and the possibility of more cups in the future. There’s no money in philosophy. I don't have a philosophy of money; I don’t need to, my cup runneth over.
That’s not where this story begins, or ends, and it may or may not take place in the middle, regardless, it will be omitted. I’m driving you know. By driving I mean not driving, but rather sitting in the backseat of the car being a passenger. I don’t know how to express that any shorter than that, so for brevity's sake, let’s say I'm driving. I've been driving all day. This was not my idea, my ideas center around me, and occasionally fictionalized people whom I pretend I am for a while, although ultimately the idea changes so much that it’s impossible to know exactly who I am, and then I return to being me. No, this was their idea. It was very much for them too, despite what they might say to the contrary. I understand. If I were either one of them I'd have done it just for me as well, after all, god only knows what other people want. Still, I wish they had left me out of it. We’ve been driving all day. This was their idea of fun. No stopping and looking around and taking it in, just whizzing past it towards parts unknown until the realization that it is known, people just don’t admit to knowing it, because they want to fit in.
We stop at a little restaurant at the end of the universe. Well, for all I know, all I have seen is trees and road for as long as I can remember, excluding the portion of my life previous to this outing. We get an outside seat so that we can take it all in. I am wrapped up in spite for their lack of consideration, but I take time to learn everything, in the hopes that someday I’ll be able to explain it to them well enough that they will actually remember and understand why I hate them so much for subjecting me to this. The view is amazing. None of them will remember it; only me. They don’t care about things like that. They’re tourists. They will do it so that they can say that they did it, because they want to fit in. Seafood alfredo. It doesn’t require preparation on my part, and as such I was unprepared for it. Certainly one of the best meals I’ve eaten at a restaurant at certainly one of the prettiest spots I've been to in my life. All I can think about is how I’ll never forget this. I hate them so much for subjecting me to this, and I will never forget it. None of them will remember it.
I had to take some of it with me when I left; the seafood alfredo, not the restaurant. Food at a restaurant is usually two servings if not more, but there is no shame in finishing it all, after all we must get our money’s worth. The free bread however is free, so it must be eaten; it’s free. Some free things should not be eaten. The free bread however is not one of those things. I’m driving you know. All the same things I sat and stared at before are flashing by again, but in the opposite direction. This is not unlike the experience that clothing goes through in a washing machine, but that brings up the issue of a cyclical universe which seems to ignore the fact that most circles were at some time square. I'm not willing to get into that right now though; I'm driving. I know where I'm going, I know how long it will take to get there, and I know that this is simultaneous the most exciting thing that they've planned for today and the most annoying thing they could have possibly chosen. That is in regards to me though, and they did not do this for me.
She has already forgotten. She is not them, but she tends to side with them, perhaps because they will do more for her than I, or perhaps she just enjoys making me mad, neither seems unreasonable at this point. I don’t think about her though, I leave that to her, I simply bring her up because she has already forgotten. I remember it so vividly. the cold outdoor seating in which we were harassed by flies who no more understand why they were there than I do, the menu so short and boring and overpriced that I order the most expensive thing on it, just to emphasize their folly. After all, seafood is not my thing. They didn’t notice any of this; although I’m sure I let them know it plain and simple at the time. Nothing but a bunch of trees and water all around me. The patio was old dry wood, the table was cheap and plastic, and the chair was even cheaper and even more plastic. I remember everything.
I did like the waitress. Not for anything she'd done, and she certainly wasn’t the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen, but in a day spent driving and staring and trees and road, it was certainly a welcome change. She made no offer to help me though. She must have seen that I was in pain, that I was swelled with hate, and yet she ignored me and made no offer to help at all. She might have been twice my age, but that doesn’t explain why she was working there. I imagine she was only there to help others in one way or another. I liked her for that. I don’t actually remember the waitress, but there must have been one, and I’m relatively certain that this is what I would think if I could remember her.
God, I hope tomorrow is better. I don’t hold out any hope for it though. We return to our hotel room; as cold and heartless as four walls can possibly be. I sit on the stiff bed and recount the details of the day, as if I thought about it enough it would change or go away. I remember everything. I turn on the television and it helps me to forget. The shows are not the same, but none of them revolve around me, and this is a relief to me. I sit in respite and hope to fall asleep while the show I love is still on, before I have to interrupt my attempt at sleep to find something else to watch. I've become quite skilled at this though, leading to some interesting dreams that I don’t remember now, but seemed interesting at the time. I’m just glad not to be driving anymore, off into the parts unknown; the warm uncertainty of sleep now envelops me.