scream

I opened the door and screamed, not at anyone in particular, not at anything in particular, there was really nothing to scream at and nothing seemed to be the problem. The issues was that there simply were not enough things to scream over.  Humans need to scream.  I almost got hit by a van the other day, the driver was simply not looking where he was going.  His head was turned to look over his left shoulder.  The man sitting next to him in the passengers seat was also not looking where they were going.  Yet the car accelerated, it just speed up.  I didn’t feel as though I was going to get hit, it didn’t seem like that was going to be the case, and I wasn’t sure if this feeling was an intuitive sense of safety, or if my body, confronted with the possibility of a real death, refused to believe.  This would be similar to dreaming, when you wake up just before the point of death.  Death really is so foreign, it really does feel like we should keep surviving, there is so much expectation that we will.  As the van started to speed up I screamed at the driver ‘What the fuck!’, I screamed like  a horn.  I related to him the same way another person in a car would get attention. ‘Beep, beep’ basically ‘what the fuck!’ sounding the alarm and trying to convey quickly the message that I was not interested in dyeing at that moment and the thought of getting hit seemed very unpleasant.  I do have to say though, that having a reason to scream allowed my adrenaline to race, and my animal instincts were finally put to use, rather than being in control all the time, I was able to simply react, and watch the reaction as one would in a mirror, as though I finally saw myself without make-up, the making-it-up-all-the-time needed to fade, I needed to be terrified.  Of course this was not pleasant, but then again, life isn’t.