i have been avoiding this place like the plague because, every time i look at it, it reminds me of how little i’ve accomplished these last few weeks.

for one, i let my driver’s license expire, so now i have to go back and redo the test. and this is the written test, for god’s sake! i haven’t had to do that in, like, forever, so i’ve had to force myself to plow through a book of driving rules because i’ve long since forgotten them all.

i’m scared as hell of getting behind the wheel of a car. for years, my parents have instilled within me an insane fear of driving. phrases such as “driving is like wielding a loaded gun: one tiny error, and bang!” and “you’re definitely going to kill someone with your driving!” have been engrained into my subconscious, so much so that i’ve had recurring dreams where i can’t control my vehicle and swerve into oncoming traffic. i don’t think i’ve ever really had a phobia of anything, but if i did, i suppose driving would be it. there’s probably an educated word for that, but i’m too lazy to look it up.

in the past, some of my friends have commented that i shouldn’t worry about getting my full license, that i’m a “first-class passenger” because i don’t complain about their speeding, their chosen routes, their tiny mistakes. sometimes i think my hesitancy to drive reflects my general apprehension to take control of my life, very much like the way my unchanging fashion sense serves as a metaphor for my reluctance to transform my current state. i’m scared of taking rein of my actions, of being the driver and being held responsible for any horrific accidents and terrible errors in judgments that i may have in the future. being the passenger takes away this culpability and i become merely a witness to everyone else’s mistakes and even triumphs. their accomplice. it’s the difference between being driven and, well, being driven.

constantly taking the backseat leaves me that much more complacent with my situation in life right now, with my lack of energy and motivation. i’m frightened of doing anything for myself because i don’t want to be the one in the guilty seat when everything goes wrong, and every action has the potential of going wrong, every kind gesture, every poor decision, every risk. like wielding a loaded gun. so what i become is a girl who closes her mouth, who shuts her eyes, a first-class passenger of life. but what scares me the most, i think, is that all i’m really doing is becoming complicit in my own undoing.