Racing

I am wondering if this is living.
Driving in this car,
with the same group of people every. single. morning.
I feel my heart beat,
does that mean I'm living?
I'm not really sure.
I listen to the same song over and over againg
and I just keep wondering if I am really living.
I am five minutes late for class.
I am wondering what my Dad is feeling.
I roll the window down
and the wind swirls through my hair.
My hair comes to life I guess you could say.
If that is what living is.
It's like everyday we wake up,
but we never really open our eyes.
I am wondering what my Dad is feeling.
I feel hazy,
I feel dizzy.
I shouldn't be driving.
So I speed up and I'm on the freeway..
70...80..85...
Stop! Slow down!!! Just think for a second!
My mind is speeding through thoughts and ideas
and my head and my heart is pounding and yet
I don't even know if I am living or not.
Or just continuing an essay for my existentialism class.
I'm late for class, ten minutes maybe.
Is this really living? All these questions?
I am wondering what my Dad is feeling.
Then the boy in the car next to me looks over
he is smiling, not at me or about me,
but he is smiling because he is living.
I look back to the road,
catching myself smiling as I do so,
smiling, giggling, laughing..
laughing so hard it hurts.
Living is apparently contagious,
and I look over to the boy next to me,
but he is already gone.
I laugh again.
I wonder what my Dad is feeling.