It was a perfect fall day, the swirling-leaf-filled air cool and crisp, and smelling of lattes and bookstores and rain. But don’t let the scenery fool you.
Sure there were probably a million white girls walking into Starbuck’s in various malls, wearing scarves and Ugg boots (already? ugh) and ordering a Pumpkin Spice Latte. If you looked across the road, or down the road, or on the other side of town or whatever, at the grocery store, there were probably plenty of young eager eyes hoping to  find the perfect pumpkin to have their daddy stick a knife into and create a jack-o-lantern better than the millions of others lining the streets.
But don’t let their sickeningly cheery fall spirit get your hopes up. This is not a story of the wonders of autumn. Don’t get me wrong, fall is my favorite season. I enjoy curling up with the latest John Greene novel, walking through crunchy leaves, and drinking hot coffee-shop beverages as much as the next white girl.
That day though, I wasn’t noticing any of it. I was lying on my unmade bed, earbuds in, staring up at the ceiling, with Linkin Park screeching loudly into my ears. I was thinking- well honestly it was hard to say, or remember rather, what I was thinking at the time. Probably something very depressing. Or maybe nothing at all. All I know is I felt like s***, and had felt like s*** for a good while.
Why, in this wonderful season of cool breezes, colorful leaves, and the anticipation of Halloween, did I feel so awful?
Suddenly, I knew I had to move. Jumping up from my bed, I grabbed my purse and headed downstairs. Without a word to my parents, I slid my mom’s car keys out of her purse on it’s hook, and slipped outside.
I hit the unlock button on the keys, making the seat slide into my setting as I opened the door. I glanced back at the house. No apparent movement, I was safe.
As soon as my seat belt was on, I was backing down the driveway. I found a good radio station while waiting for a car to pass on the road behind me, then pulled out onto the street, music blaring, window rolled all the way down. Sure it was cold, but who gives a f***?
I still don’t think I was noticing the wonderful leaves, stupid Halloween decorations, or the kids riding their bikes down the sidewalk next to me, but still, the driving calmed my nerves. It was a little cloudy that day, but not threatening rain.
As I accelerated onto the highway, the wind blew through my hair and I took a deep breath. It felt so good to get away from that stupid house for a while, to lose myself in the motions of the car and the sounds blaring from the sound system.
After I got too cold, I rolled my window up and turned off the highway down a country road. I had no clue where it lead, but I guessed I would find out. Eventually I slowed and turned off into a little opening to a corn field. The radio was still blasting away. They were playing a song by Three Days Grace called “Never Too Late”, which happens to be one of my favorites.
I put it in park and looked around. The sky was kinda pretty, actually. Streaked with dark gray clouds, with the piercing blue poking through there and again. I closed my eyes for a minute and listened to the lyrics of the song. There’s this one line that goes, “This world will never be what I expected, and if I don’t belong who would have guessed it”. It’s the opening line of the song, but it’s repeated throughout.
When I opened my eyes again, there were tears in them. It had occurred to me that I’d have to go home sooner or later.
I love the feeling of driving away, but I hate the feeling of coming back. And it’s not even like I have a bad home; my family loves me and all, it’s just that there, I have an image to uphold. Everyone expects me to that happy child still, the one who loves everything about autumn (except for maybe school), listens to pop music, sings in the shower, does everything she’s asked- heck, I still expect me to be that way. But I’m not. That’s not me anymore.
I guess when I drive away, I just wanna go somewhere no one knows my name. Somewhere no one will judge me based on a past self, because, they’ve never met me.
I dried my eyes on the sleeves of my sweatshirt and backed out onto the gravel again. The radio had turned over to some annoying pop song, and I didn’t bother changing it.
When I pull back into my own driveway, it’s already begun to get dark. I tried to slip inside as soundlessly as I slipped out, but sure enough there was my mom standing in the entryway (as if we have an entryway, it kinda just opens right into the kitchen).
Her arms were crossed and concern showed on her face. “Where did you go?” she said, “we were worried.”
Doubt it, I thought. “Just needed to get some air. Sorry, didn’t want to bother you guys.”
“Well you should always tell us where you’re going, at least,” she scolded. “Something could have happened, honey.”
Unfortunately, nothing did. “Well, I’m off to bed,” I said.
“It’s only 6:30,” my dad, who had appeared in the kitchen doorway, said, but I don’t really listen, I was already slipping past him.
Back in my room, I put my earbuds back in and turn The Neighbourhood, my favorite band, up loud. Back to the same old routine. Despite my little road trip, nothing had really seemed to change. I still felt like s***. My ceiling was still painfully white.

So here I am, in the present, writing about it. And why? Well, I guess I’m trying to make some meaning out of it. Some better reason for driving away. Some message I should learn from my experiences driving the streets of Iowa. But I guess in the end, that day really wasn’t that different from every other day. It was still a beautiful fall day, I just didn’t see the beauty in it that time. The swirling-leaf-filled air was still cool and crisp, and there was still the smell of lattes and bookstores and rain (and all that poetic s*** I wrote at the beginning) but it didn’t matter to me that day. It still doesn’t matter. I’ve been having a lot of those days lately.
I don’t know what to do about seeing my favorite things, and not feeling happy as a result. So I’ll just turn my iPod up loud, and try to block it all out, i guess. I’ll keep driving away, trying to find somewhere that I can start over, have a new identity- and the world will continue to disappoint me. “The world will never be what I expected.” I’m guessing my parents will still think I belong home with them forever, the happy child they raised, and who wouldn’t think that? “If I don’t belong who would have guessed it.”
I don’t belong. I do not belong in this world. At least not the “I” everyone expects me to be. I’ve got to change, to meld into who I really am, in order to feel acceptable even to myself. I guess it’s time to quit driving away and take out the earbuds.
Well, after this song is done.