I always pictured something perfect, top down, speeding down a lonely road, like they do in fear and loathing.
Johnny Depp and Benicio Del Toro, high on whatever they could find, racing to nowhere, and fast.
I could do with the lack of drugs, and more with the blasting of music I could sing out loud without critique from anyone around me.
Then again you'd be there, laughing at me as I sing all the words of every song you could possibly find on that ipod.
I remember the time when I held it up to my ear because i couldn't hear anything, and you still continue to give me a shit about it, and always bring it up.
But we'll continue to drive, and I don't think the smile will leave my face, because we'll be driving by the beach.
And lord knows I love that place.
I don't know why no one will be there, but they won't, because then it wouldn't be perfect anymore.
I'll hear the waves cracking as they slap against the shore, and the grass will shift in the wind and send an offshore breeze right up to my nose, and I'll be able to breathe easier, it might as well be as addicting as heroin.
And you won't mind that I'll stop just to look at the sky, because the shapes of the clouds had always amaze me.