Your friends will suggest it first, because they’re the rambunctious kind and into that kind of stuff. They’re the thrill-seeking, can’t-sit-still type who sneak a game on their phones during class. Everything is boring to them, simply put, save a few ephemeral yet dopamine-boosting activites.

One of them being these.

You’re scared to try it at first. After all, people can die from this if they’re not careful, and they rarely are. Don’t be a baby, they insist. They urge you on, and how could you say no? All the cool kids do it. It looks so fun, you know? And besides, there’s a seatbelt. No danger there.

When you wait in line, you get butterflies. When you get into the cart, your hands shake. And when it starts, you pause before pressing the pedal.

But you already got inside. There’s no turning back now. And might as well give it a go…

You slam your pedal down—slowly, at first—and steer carefully, not even daring to look at the other riders. They’re going fast. really fast. And it looks…exciting. Should you try it? You try pressing down a little more and then ZOOM!

_ _You’re soaring. Gliding around the ring. Cold air hits your face and you get pushed back in your seat with the speed. Something about how fast you’re going, how your brain is telling you how dangerous this is (we should slow down, really; we’re too fast) makes you want it more.

And then that first hit? Nothing like it.

You came from such a high speed, zipping through the air, but then slam into another car. Your heart practically stops. (My head hurts, I didn’t like that.)

_ _It felt so different. Like somehow, when your energy transferred out of your body during the collision, all your stresses came out with too. The anger and sadness built up from the week let go all with one hit.

You want more.

That thrill at the beginning felt heavenly. The speed and the wind hitting your face and the satisfying release you had experienced before was the best you’ve ever felt, so you try finding it again.

Pressing hard on the pedal once more, zooming around freely as much as you can. But…It doesn’t feel the same. Nothing about the car or the ring has changed, but it’s not like how it was when you went through it the first time. You stop and start again, eagerly searching for that euphoria again, but end up dissapointed.

You slow to a stop and reallize: there will be nothing like that again.

Soon after, another car hits you into a corner. Neither one of you can get out. You ignore each other, staring off in the awkward direction awkwardly. This gives you some time to think. Was this all worth it? For the ammount of tokens I spent on the ride?

Before you can ponder on it more, the session is over. A chorus of buckles unclipping and thick seatbelts slapping the rubber chairs fill the room. Walking out feels weird, almost like its too slow for you. Your body somehow got used to bumper cars.

Your friends catch up again. Smiles on their faces, although you’re sure they’re feeling the same thing: emptiness. They came here to chase that high again and found nothing.

“So,” one asks, “Do you want to go on again?”

This is the dilemma I face everyday. I know the deal. I’ll pay too high of a price for something that won’t ever make me feel as good as I did that one time. The experience will make all the problems I have wash away, and I will be void of all consequences and difficult emotions. Yet when it’s all over, nothing’s changed. I will go back to my same life with my same struggles.

But I have the same solution, no matter how hard I try to escape it. I’ve gone too far down the rabbit hole. I’ve done this so many times, my body can’t handle being without it. I’m one with the bumper cars. And I’ll always get stuck in line.

I try and try again to quit, but at the end of the day, I’m that kid at the arcade, tugging on their mom’s shirt, begging to go on the bumper cars again. Just for one more time.