Running From Emotions

Have you ever driven down an empty country road at two in the morning? The windows are rolled all the way down, as if the wind itself could carry away the emotional pressure. With the turbulent all-consuming storm raging inside your body, you'd expect the music to be blasting: hater, anger, love, and sorrow thrown in with the bass to be blasted into eternity. It's not like that. Instead, the music remains low, a gentle hum to drown out the oppressive silence. Memories flit across the windshield. It's characters are ghostly, there for only a moment before they fade into the black, a part of the emotional well outside your mental box.
It can be a heady experience. Time, just every once in a while, slows down. It lulls. Sorrow can appear to stop the clock, in the same way happiness can sometimes race against time and win. Perhaps therein lies the reasoning behind sorrow. In a world where time runs rampant, tossing around humans like dandelions in the breeze, sorrow alone possesses the power to hamper the clock, pulling it back and reminding it that no matter how strong you are, there is always something out there that is stronger. More powerful. Look at our emotions. How powerful are they?