“Two little mice fell in a bucket of cream. The first mouse quickly gave up and drowned. The second mouse, wouldn’t quit. He struggled so hard that eventually he churned that cream into butter and crawled out.”
I was always told I had a motor, an engine, a driving force. To this day, I do not know if it was gifted or self-made, all I know is that I have a v8. I was always such a small convertible, but what I lacked in size, I made up for in horsepower. I may be just flesh and bones but my mind, my mentality, my motor, is made of solid titanium.
My goals and future depended solely on her. I owe everything I have to her. She made sure I was a spring chicken during those 530 am drives. She made sure I didn’t run out of gas after 500 miles. She made sure I took those long scenic routes instead of the shortcuts. I owe all my pride as a twenty-first century vehicle to her.
I would seemingly drive myself 25 hours a day, 8 days a week. It was my engine that kept me warm at night and going when the sun was up. Whatever she wanted, she got.
Unlike others, my diesel never got tired, and she always pulled through when others couldn’t. She has the size of a small watermelon and has the musk of sweat and tears, and a little bit of old spice. I never got tired old that smell, it was Fabreze to my nose, a reminder of where I came from.
Ever since I discovered her true powers, I’ve been going everywhere with it. I treated her just like I treated life; “the more fuel you put into it, the more miles you will go. Never a second did I take her for granted because I knew that this fire in me wouldn’t burn forever. Eventually, we all become old and fragile, a sack full of aching bones and regret, a silhouette of what we once were. But as of right now, I’m allowed to live on the highway at 100 miles an hour
She was there with me when I was first praised. She was there with me every single milestone. She was there with me when had happiness and satisfaction. And I darn well know that it will be there to drive me out of heartbreak. It was just me, myself and her.
I would quite literally be lost without her. A car that can’t drive is doomed to become useless, and left behind.
If I was Dory, then what’s under my hood would be the voice inside my head telling me to “just keep swimming”. Its logic was my knowledge, my instincts, my motivation. People would call me cocky for being “inspired by myself”. But what they don’t know is that when I refer to “myself”, I’m talking about her.
Unfortunately, nothing lasts forever.
You may be a gold plated diamond encased in cryonics, but eventually, all you’ll be is stolen. I’m only joking around, but you get the point. Nothing comes for free in this life, except for the inevitable entropy.
I was like a Bugatti Veyron. Not limited by its motor, but rather the risk of blowing his wheels out. Every day I look myself in the mirror satisfied, with new motivation to better myself. My mind was corrupted by what I once thought was my driving force. It seemed like, at the end of the day, all that the opiate left me with was a broken heart. But like any other day, the little voice inside my head told me to just keep swimming. And that’s exactly what I did. That is until my continental tires exploded.
I had hit rock bottom. There was no driving away from this one, I didn’t have the tires to do so. The only thing I felt was guilt, sadness, and since I’m materialistic, a little bit of inertia. My body may have come to a stop, but my motor will always keep going 100 miles an hour…
It has been five months since the incident.
I’m proud to be that second mouse