I'm in a car, a really ****** junker. I'm in the front seat, but I'm not the one driving. The girl behind the wheel looks like me, but she isn't. I don't know who she is. We're speeding down the highway at night, at seventy miles per hour. I keep begging her to slow down, but if she listens, she doesn't let it show. The blacktop is empty for us, but we don't need someone else to cause us to crash. We are our own dynamite. We're hurtling through this frantic void, broken by streetlights. I'm quiet now, but I'll start screaming soon, and the radio will play nothing but my worst nightmares. We're going to crash. We're going to crash. Oh my g