leather interior.

i’m not really sure why i sit for hours on end in this stark white room, staring blankly at a screen with whatever music playing in the background to help make the experience more enjoyable. i really just want to drive. i want an adrenaline rush even though it’s been weeks since i’ve slept more than 6 hours in one night. i want to sit in the drivers’ seat, press the accelerator as far down as i can with the windows down and the sunroof pulled back. i want my hair to blow in every possible direction so when i finally run out of gas it looks like i’ve gone to the beach daily without showering for weeks. over-sized sunglasses prevent my eyes from watering, as my heart continues to beat to the rhythm of the bass surging from the speakers. i want to just ride in silence- in a constant state of contradiction, with so much going on around me as i sit peacefully, uninterrupted and perfectly content in my state of horizontal free fall.

anticipation. i wish i knew to when anticipate; i simply expect.

i am contradiction defined. i want to work my life away, 70+ hours a week, without another peer pressure to touch me. i never want my friends to leave my side, or to not include me. i view my life from a 3rd person perspective , because then 1st person me never feels the emotional repercussions i would bring upon myself. they’re somehow blocked out by logic before it even has a chance to hit me; yet i still manage to touch it. i can grasp it, but it doesn’t get through. i just continue on in a free fall.

eventually the ground will come to a sudden end as i press the pedal down an extra centimeter, just for that last push. the wheels continue to accelerate even though there is nothing beneath them. you will tell me over and over again that they’re not doing anything, to just take my foot off of the damn pedal. i will, as i continue forward and the car begins to fall downward, lifting me up off of the seat, my hands meeting the roof of the car, eyes closed. no anticipating the impact, simply expecting the free fall to end at some point. there are always forks in the road. mine simply don’t connect my paths. i’m jolted back into grabbing the wheel. the car drives differently on each road, it’s just a matter of adjusting each time.

leather interior.


Seattle, United States

  • Artist
desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait
desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait

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