My emotional motor color is set inside and outside of car that no longer knows the way, its mostly forgotten and some roads were not remembered from their start, they were many roads ago. The car is one of the deep ones inside and with a personally painted exterior, but it suffers from a case of life long steering issues. So, I try not to take on too many passengers – for it is a dangerous ride sometimes, a ride you can loose on – I do not intend it to be so, I don’t even know when it is about to happen — it just does.
Accelerating through life faster and faster, giving up control as the motor color changes, it tends to sway far off course when nudged just a bit to avoid crashes, for you see, I’ve crashed many times before, one harder than the next.
My emotional motor color doesn’t have one or two colors, its paint that contains all of the colors — from the most illuminating sun streaks bursting of orange and yellows and the dull and drab matte black and all in between. I know, because I painted each color myself, it is very noticeable, and very unintentional.
The paint is the emotion, it’s tells more than the rest of the motor can,and the colors continue to change, because they must adapt or suffer – suffer the pain of becoming one single color again/
This uniformity is not something I can turn back to, I have come too far down another path, driving down a path of chaos and this path is the path I now feel most comfortable driving on, it is normal – and without it, I am uncomfortable.
There is more capacity inside than you can see from the outside though, I’ve more than my share to carry inside and in some cases, I must carry some on the top. It depends on where my motor has taken me and the colors it has chosen for me, the state I find myself in upon arrival, how hard, how far, how many emotional miles did I drive to get me here and how much did it hurt?
I can quickly add up and some of the miles, but there are some that are incalculable, and some that are long forgotten I’m not sure their name of their color, but they hurt more than they helped me, but I take their color with me anyway. These are the colors that scare, I never know how far I can drive with them, it’s always a long way though. The sharp twists and turns are to keep us safe on the un-even road of life where the dangers never seems to end and around every bend, they always start again. Back on to the road with my colors and they’re changing again, individual colors I began my drive with many years earlier, remain a combination of the many I just don’t know if I can get them back to how I knew them, back to their calm individuality, I don’t think I have the desire to try anymore.