the road to the Moon

I first remember I was packing my bags for a trip.  I was going on a road trip, everyone was angry with me and I am stressed.  I wanted to run away from it all, and a drive somewhere seemed like a good idea.  I felt saddened, I was going alone and I felt upset leaving people behind because I didn't trust what they would do while I was gone, but I had to let it go.  I became angry.  I confronted those people, their angry eyes and spiteful words.  I said I'm going to find myself, and when I get back you will either be gone or prepared to accept me fully when I become who I need to become.  There was a girl, there was some family, and there were some shitty friends.  They fell apart, they cried and pleaded I don't go, they became desperate and choked on tears.  I said no, not this time.  I won't be prone to sympathy.  Everything was wrong and I cried as I put my things into the car.  Then again, I was angry, they stood helpless outside on the sidewalk.  I told them I gave all, and they took more than their share, more than I was able.  They became drunk cannibals, poisoning their full bellies with my blood.  I was their source of sustenance, of protection, of safety.  We became attached to each other spiritually, now their souls devour mine because I ran out of love to give.  Sometimes I hate them, I want those pieces of me back, but today I gave them the last drop of me.  I was meditating and fell asleep.  I dreamed I replenished my veins with silver.  Those bad people wanted it, but they fell at my feet, weak and powerless without my help.  I said I'm not a fucking punk, I'm not a victim, I'm not your defender anymore.  I drove, it was night, the highway was dark and empty and I gnashed my teeth, I felt power and energy finally.  The road ahead peeled off the ground, unraveled and stretched into the dark skies.  I text an old friend.  It felt like I was keeping an injury fresh, a wound open, my cellphone had been stuck in my heart but I threw it out the window.