Driving

I’ve always loved driving, but today was the first time I had an anxiety attack driving.

I’ve been driving since just around 2016; legally. I drove so much up until the later months of 2018. It’s like 2018 has become synonymous with the end of my happiness. Maybe it is.

Today was the first time I drove since sometime in September 2019. Just being behind a steering wheel felt good, it felt instinctive, I’m glad, I drove a lot.

I got a challan 6 minutes into driving, I was pulling to the left, turned out I wasn’t wearing a seatbelt. As soon as I got stopped I got very anxious due to my tattoos, they would have escalated the situation. Anyway got the challan, started laughing my ass off when he told me I wasn’t wearing my seatbelt. I remember getting a challan (ticket) for the exact same reason at the exact same checkpoint 4 years ago. One month into driving. Crazy shit.

That’s not what caused the anxiety attack though. That happened on the way back from my grandparents. I took the underpass under shar-e-faisal, that I had to U-turn from lucky star for. That’s why I had the attack.

The few friends of mine that read this know why that signal had(s?) a lot of importance. I spent two years almost driving to and from it every single day, sometimes multiple times a day. I was sober then, sober from it all. Clean.

When I realised where I was going, that I’ll probably have to cross that road at least a few hundred times in the next few months, I hope I’m able to go back to uni, taking online classes would suck from here.

Anyway, I felt myself hyperventilating just looking and driving, I mean that’s literally never happened before, ever. Never ever while driving. How many more things, how many new things will this shit effect.

I don’t like it.

It’s nice though, I’m finally out of isolation. I visited my family today. I taught my 10-year-old cousin the meaning of desalinisation, and what gravity is. Mind-blowing haha.

Though the day started the same way this week has. Absolutely horrible. Waking up makes me want to die, sleeping doesn’t come to me. My dread has manifisted itself in heartbreak and that’s all cool and shit, but what’ll I do when I move on and it manifests somewhere else. I’m getting tired of the constant back and forth.

I am on talking terms with most of the people I need to be, or I want to be. There’s very few people that keep me up at night. I just want to go get some more tattoos, I just want to do things for me. I want to write this book, I will. I have to.

I hope the few of you that read this will get it, tell your friends to as well. Help this sad boy get some book sales. Let’s see, at this rate I might have the first draft done before I go back to uni. Covid has me stuck here, so might as well write. That’s the only thing I am kind of good at.