Schizophrenia.com

Driving on the freeway is dangerous

Driving south on the 15 freeway descending into the grey hazy valley made of warm cement and metal, there are thousands of cars moving like ants in slow motion. Along the sides are thousands of houses all duplicates of one another. Row after row, street after street. I consider that this is repeated over and over, all over the state, the country, the world. And I cringe at the slowly gathering cars in front of me. I push down on the brake as I am enlightened. There are too many people. There are too many people. Which one is special? This one? How about that one? None of us is special, and yet I believe God loves us all. How to reconcile the visual impression made of infestation, swarming human beings and the idea that each is unique and worthwhile. And then I push this thought away because we’re all just here. What else can we do? We just keep pushing on like the little ants we are.

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The cities revise the skies with open hearts and evil eyes

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You mind your own business and don’t stare or glare at other drivers. You ignore the obvious as*holes and just get to where you’re going. You can look around and listen to the radio. They’re just people, they’re just strangers. You don’t have to be their saviour or give anyone special attention. They don’t expect you to and you don’t owe it to them. I am saying this for me as well as you because I drive through bumper to bumper traffic on the freeway three days a week for an hour each way. I hate traffic but I can’t avoid it.

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