we’ll have driven through the night (baby, come on)

5. We drive and drive until we find a place where we can park and drink. We order nachos and onion rings and glasses of beer and vodka. I would prefer whiskey, but I have to drive. We are all a little jaded, a little short-changed, a little lost in the big city, in the whirlwind of early adulthood. Our twenties are more unkind than films and tv shows have promised them to be. We think we are grown ups now.

(sort of, a little, maybe not at all.)

4. We talk about random things. Why men aren’t like the men we imagine in our heads. Why we don’t keep in touch anymore with the people we love. Why we need to get out of here – find a new place to travel, to see, to appreciate. We mix the guacamole, the salsa, the cheese. We spin it all around and we laugh. We find nobody else funny anymore.

(and if we do, we don’t say it.) 

3. We talk about love and loss. We laugh about other girls because we are bitter and we’ve had a couple of drinks. Yes, the dull ache is still there, we say. The dull ache which means the want, the longing, the pain, the missing something we never had. Maybe we will be alone forever. Maybe we won’t find anyone else. The future does not look too bright.

(if we think about it too much, we wouldn’t be here.)

2. We take pictures in front of the bathroom against the brown bricked walls. We walk outside with our arms wrapped around each other back to the car. At least we have us. Us – far away, close together, always orbiting each other, always crying about one thing or another. We walk through aisles in the supermarket and we share stories that we don’t tell ourselves when we are happy.

(maybe we’ll forget if we tell them enough.)

1. We blast music as loud as we can in the car on the way home. Sing the songs at the top of our lungs. Who cares if they are sad songs – the ones we listen to when we want a good cry? Music tastes different when it is shared by more than one person. We don’t say it out loud, but we know that we are all missing people who do not exist anymore.

Are we in love? Maybe a little. With ghosts and shadows and the notes which have disappeared into the warm, soft night.

(it is better to be broken together than not to be broken at all.)


Follow me on Twitter: @PimKaprao

*Thank you to The Lumineers for the title of this piece. 

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