REWIND

Midnight. I'm cruising a road I used to drive all the time, with the top down. Then there it is: the same vending machine, its light still flickering. That summer, I pulled over here almost every night, clutching loose change in my sunburned hand. By day, I'd work the pedals in cheap sunglasses and sandals. August smelled of nothing but sunscreen and gasoline. I drove without a destination in mind, dove into the waves at night, and laughed with my hair sticky from the salt. I wasn't afraid of anything. And I never realized how special that was.

But now I stop at every yellow light, like I'm supposed to. I drive so much better than I did back then, yet my heart hits the brakes before I can even step on the gas. Turns out growing up just means learning to be afraid. Nobody ever told me that. Somewhere along the way, on some ordinary Tuesday, I guess I left the girl I used to be behind. It's not someone else I miss. It's me.

I pull over and dig through the old wallet in the glove box for coins, and out comes a crumpled note. A dare to myself, in my old messy handwriting. At the top, underlined: "Never get boring." I start counting on my fingers the days I've broken that promise, then stop. It was every single day. If the old me saw who I am now, so well-behaved and numb, she'd be furious. My phone never rings, and the passenger seat is empty. I'm so lonely I can't stand it. Honestly, I want to tear down everything I've so carefully built.

Coins in hand, I stand in front of the vending machine, and I think I see the old me reflected in the glass. She flashes a grin like, "Seriously? How long are you gonna stall?" I can't say a thing back, and my eyes start to blur. Back in the car, the tears won't stop. My mascara runs, and I can taste the salt. I flick on my turn signal, pull back onto the road, and floor it. I'll burn all those safe tomorrows to the ground. I just want one night to go wild, do something stupid, and feel completely free.

The engine's roar shakes my chest, and the night wind sweeps my tears behind me. Scared? No. It feels electric. I almost scream, "Rewind, take me back," and then it hits me. The old me isn't behind me. She's somewhere up this road, still wearing that grin, waiting for me. So no more rewinding. Tears, mascara and all, I'm chasing the girl I used to be. Hold on, I'm on my way.