Streetcar

I finally got a car last week. Before you turn the page over in disgust, let me tell you my earlier statement is untrue. I didn't get a car. It got me instead.
Well, the streetcar looked cushy, comfortable and didn't tug too much at my purse-strings... I sat on the driver's chair... I remember I wanted to pick up something from the New Market.
The throbbing, pulsating wheel, however, steered me into a lane I hadn't ventured before. An unmitigated, raw desire welled up as if a dam has burst within... The tour de force of it took me completely by surprise.
The corner, which I had turned blindly a thousand times, couple of hundreds while I was sleepwalking, threw open a new angle so blindingly seductive that I became powerless to resist its charms. The flighty temptress seemed too alluring. What started as a casual little drive became a devouring desire as I delved deeper and deeper into its alleys and sub-alleys.
For nine days and nine long agonising nights I thought about deserting the lane for the highway. I do not have to spend my time convincing you that greater mortals than me have lost the battle, so it is almost destined I will lose in the end. Self-destruction, I have to admit, is one hell of an addiction. The fireflies will be able to tell you better how easy it is to jump into the fire than wait in the wings of warm, melting heat. One that skins you alive.
This was becoming too much too handle. I honked the horn in desperation, tried to jam the brakes. The accelerator pressed tightly, I turned the wheel. Or did I?
Let there be fire, someone said, and out broke the inferno that slept within. I became me. I never knew it's so soothing to be roasted alive. Ah life! See you in another time, another space...