Thursday, May 1, 2025.
Cheyenne, Wyoming.

Every truck driver drives an average of 10 hours a day. In those 10 hours, you probably take 2 breaks. That means you drive 3-4 hours each time without stopping.

In those 3-4 hours, the most common thought is always suicide. Because the solution to all troubles is to disappear and go away, to escape from those troubles.

The truck driver became a truck driver to escape from troubles. He traveled far away, to places he did not know, but

he realized this. The things you really want to escape from are not in the lands you have left, but inside your own brain.

Therefore, no matter how far you go, you have not traveled the distance.

For him, the only salvation left is to disappear. The pistol they sold you to protect yourself from thugs

was actually sold to the wrong person. You’re your own worst villain. At least to yourself.

Around this time, the 3-hour first stage ends and you take your first break. As you sip your coffee, you think how colorful, how sweet and how beautiful life is.

It turns out that the road is the potential killer trying to kill you. You know, the road you can’t get enough of. It was being alone on that long road that bothered you. You know, the loneliness you can’t get enough of.

Then the break ends quickly and you set off again on a 4-hour journey. The first 30 minutes pass as the good thoughts from the break slowly melt away. In the next 3 and a half hours you find yourself in the absence of this lost hope, in the struggle to make sense of the absurdity.

Now you’re driving and making someone money. You’re making money too. But it’s never enough. It’s never enough. Because you’re too greedy. Because you’re too hungry. Because you were forbidden to eat in your youth.

Because sexuality was forbidden in the Middle East, you were hungry for pussy. Now every penny you find, every dollar you earn is spent on pussy.

Even if you try to get rid of it, it’s a bad addiction. You don’t know a better place to spend your money. What if you don’t spend it? You’ll spend it when you’re old? Old?

It’s not the right of people like us to grow old. To grow old, you have to cruelly and selfishly give birth to children. For example, my parents did. Now I’m a slave to take care of them. But I’ll never be that son of a bitch.

Who will take care of me when I’m old? No one. Who wants to grow old anyway? Why is growing old considered more beautiful than dying?

Approaching the end of the 4th hour on the road, there’s a gun under your chin again, aiming at your brain in your sleepwalking dreams.

Then it’s time for a break. And the truck drivers will eat. All of them will be a century away from the idea of suicide in that restaurant. They don’t even look at the prices of the dishes on the menu. They want to be happy. Eating, drinking, laughing, talking.

That’s why we can see the causeless grins on the faces of the drivers in the store. They are just happy to be experiencing life. And now they are walking to the last 3 hours of driving of the day.

3 more hours of crying behind the wheel. Their tears will wash away the dirt and dust inside them. Tears are the exhaust of truck drivers’ bodies.

Then they will fall into a deep sleep and if they are lucky, a heart attack will visit them during sleep so that tomorrow they will not struggle with misery again.

But who knows. Maybe there will be a long break one day. A long one, where you grin meaninglessly and appreciate not being a truck driver.