There were only two words one ever used to describe her, two words that contained both her best traits and her flaws, two words that completely simplified her, balanced her. One was vibrant. Or, she thought to herself as she put the rusty vehicle into gear, people thought she was alive. Of course, nobody told her that in person, because nobody talks like that anymore, like they did in the Austen and Bronte stories. Yes, vibrant was the way to describe everything she did in life. The other adjective was impatient. But she firmly believed that life was going to suddenly spring on her, and once all those dreams in her blue spiral notebook came true, she would be more alive and vibrant than ever. Unfortunately, she was too impatient for the knight in shining armor to suddenly emerge from his garage band and sweep her away in a '72 Ford Mustang as they drove into the sunset.


She never drove the speed limit, always a little bit over. She tried to never go more than 7mph more than the limit on busy streets, but the rule did not apply to the winding roads through the woods that she insisted on taking every trip, despite the distance it involved. As soon as she hit those back roads she turned on her brights and took off, barely slowing for the treacherous twists and turns. Despite the fact that the back roads were the most inefficient way of getting anywhere, she always made record time thanks to her speed. She never went more than 15 mph over however, if she could help it. Her vegan conscience would remind her of the innocent Bambi's she might accidentally kill on the way.


She never used the air conditioning in her car either, just rolled down the windows. By the time it gets cool in here, she always said, we've arrived at our destination. Plus, she'd think with a smile, the car never completely aired out since she had quit smoking. She hadn't had enough patience to wait for her measly paycheck to pay for the illegal addiction. But despite her lack of patience, people were reminded why they loved her when they could smell the green woodsy smells through the windows. They loved her vibrancy, her life.


She turned 18 tonight, the night the garage band prince was supposed to make her his rocker queen as they rode that mustang to their college kingdom. As she drove herself through the woods from her birthday party, she suspected she was going at least 30 over. It didn't matter anyway, her tears blurred the speedometer from view. As she pressed harder on the gas, the air conditioner made the note pinned to her green hoodie flutter angrily. Impatience had unbalanced life.