drive me there

I used to go out driving when I was upset, and the general freedom of the roads in Moses Lake was comforting. I never did here in Seattle, where there's too many lights and too much traffic and the city stretches on forever--the roads aren't free like they were. Still, I'd go out walking--fog, rain, whatever. I'd explore little things you can't see from a car. It was nice.

Tonight my friend called me up and said she just wanted to drive, and picked me up, and we drove around, first downtown, then taking the roads and ending up in Wallingford and Fremont, stoplights and city lights and everything. And she'd just talk and drive and as I watched, I started feeling caged in. No destination in mind, no end in sight. The skyline is beautiful but it's wild, and moving past too quickly, and there's no place for the restless. I said this, actually. "There's no place for the restless here."

We were at a stoplight somewhere on Wallingford Ave. She looked over at me. "Well, no, but that's what restlessness is about, isn't it? There's no place for you anywhere."

I wanted to disagree. I'm still not sure I think she's right. But I can't explain why she's wrong, which is happening to me a lot lately.

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