passing cars streak by, dotting my vision with their artificial headlights, as I sit in the backseat of my parent’s car.

They pass by quickly, barely giving me enough time to see them, catch them in my minds eye.

Sometimes I feel like I am not in the drivers seat. Stuck in the flow of traffic. Scrolling through the gram like an addict. My existence born from pieces of content that are mere fragments.

I don’t know where I want to go. But this highway is not my path.

If you squint your eyes in just the right way, the lights of the passing cars look like the dandelions that scatter in the wind like full stars in the sky. Just maybe; by following that seed that blows off the beaten path, a new star, a new light will be born.