Hell sweet

Vanos. Double. High revs. Just that car. E36 coupe. One man. One highway. One song. The man is looking through the windshield. A bottle of whiskey, half empty, in the feet of the passenger seat. A note, next to the bottle. Useless words about what is true and what is not, about decision, about how good pain is, about how more real the illusion is than the real stuff, about a storm of loneliness. About the cat's eyes. That look at you. And see through you.

Imagine that it is true. Just for a second. True. Even if you know it is not true. True. How would it be for it to be like this? A continental philosopher, frenchman, said that hell is the others. Continentals got it wrong. Hell is not supposed to be easy. Yet it is easy to get away from the others. Really easy. The one thing that is not easy, though. In fact it might turn out to be impossible. To get away from yourself. Hell is not the others. The hell is you. Imagine that you do not believe that something is so. Imagine that you think that you don't feel something. You might just be wrong. Wrong. Imagine that you are wrong. Or, that you just don't know. The more you have believed in the illusion the bigger the shock after the revealed truth. Ok, you will say that we do not know what truth is, or that we do not just find things that are out there but we create them. We decide what is true and what is not. Decision might be powerful. Like, imagine there is a stupid mere truth lying out there no matter whether you know it or not, no matter whether something happens or not. Then you make a decision. Create a new truth. Are they the same? Don't look like. Which one is the one then? Unless we know what truth is no one knows. But while you do not know you do not exclude. Because you don't know. Say, you are right. We do not know what truth is. If so then, we do not know what is not true. With two choices, we can't decide. Say you are right. We do not find things but we create them. How do you know? It might be that you created this, right? Say you are right. And decision is worth it. You know what is true and yet you are powerful and can unknow it. You decide and the truth is gone. Pusshhhhhh. Disappears. How does it work? You invest energy into building a castle. Huge crystal castle, sun shining inside. Maintain the furniture, entertain the guests. And the people that live in there. Even the garden cat. Sand foundations. One careless beam and the castle collapses. What good is the decision then? There is nothing but the real thing. The real thing is not a coke, but a natural going on. Whatever goes on is natural. Clear. No doubt. No matter what truth is. Or whether we know it. But, somehow, deep down you know it. May be deep, deep down. May be deep, deep down. May be deep, deep, deep, deep down. Or may be you just can't see it because of the many decisions. It is hard to see. When you do not want to see. Then: bam. Truth. Can't get away of what you are. Of what you you have done. Of what you see. This is the hell. Not the continental caprice but the real stuff.

The man pushes up the car lighter. Still looking through the windshield. A second. The lighter pops. The bottle has some drops left. The steering wheel is not winding too much as the man empties the bottle over the note. Irish whiskey. Lighter. Note. Flame. Right seat. Revs go to 7x. 4th gear. Highway gets shorter. Never looked like this. 5th. Rounded angles instead of turns. Vanos. The valves are rushing, smoothly give the wild drive down the wheels.

There are no others. Just you. You do not know what truth is. It does not matter any more. It is you. You might be wrong but the song is right. Revs. Too much turn. No attempt. Valves.

Sweet. Nice to meet you.