#2

I used to love my roller coaster so large and shiny and made of steel. As a kid I would ride it for fun. That feeling of letting go and being slightly out of control were appealing to me.

Gradually over time though I grew up, and began to resent my roller coaster and what it represented. It had become run down and I needed to repair it, but I didn't want to spend the time or effort to do so. I would sometimes be forced to ride it, even though I wanted nothing more than to just leave it there to rot in some roller coaster hell.

I thought I had left it for good somewhere in the desolate back woods of Berks county. As it turns out someone decided my roller coaster needed to be here with me looming over my shoulder every single solitary day. I don't know who it was and I quite frankly don't care. But I hate that person. I didn't want it here. I never asked for it to be here so why the hell is it here?

I wish I had enough power to crush the roller coaster, but I don't. Some days I wish it would finally fly off the tracks and never run again. But yet it continues to press on like some sick and twisted energizer bunny.

All I want is to be off this roller coaster ride.