Insomnia Road Trip

<<INSOMNIA ROAD TRIP>> Where to, Instagram? ⚫️ A (virtual) midnight road trip, courtesy of The Algorithm.

(TW: Police shooting)

The reader in me —

Followed a used bookstore in Madison, Wisconsin. Now I get book recs galore. What should I add to my TBR list?

A couple of swipes, and now I’m at that pizza joint, the one that sells the wacky flavors like mac n’ cheese. I follow them and scroll through dozens of photos of pizzas.

The eater in me —

Is hungry now. I keep scrolling, leaning against the kitchen counter while my frozen pizza cooks. A woman I don't know pops up, telling me she is a "non virgin," luring me to check out her OnlyFans page. How the hell did I get here?

The woman in me —

Is sex positive but recognizes dead eyes and despair when she sees it. This is depressing shit at 2:00 a.m., so I block her. Bye. 

My head hits the pillow and the heartburn comes. I shouldn’t have eaten pizza this late.

Some more book recs and pizza porn, and now I’m back in Madison, it seems. 

The mother in me —

Watches a stranger* take his last breath. Held down on the pavement. Pop, pop, pop.

Swiping brings more of the same scene, but from different angles. Different screams, different shouts. I’m stuck on a roundabout, with no way off. 

The matriarch in me — 

Knows he is someone’s son. Someone’s grandson. Someone’s reason to smile.

Was. He was.

I shut off my phone and try to ignore the dawn light seeping under the blinds. So many people passed through my room tonight, yet I will fall asleep alone.

The algorithm took me on an insomniac road trip, but I wasn’t driving. I was the Passenger Princess sipping her iced coffee and gazing out the window.

*RIP Corey Ruiz - 22 July 2026

Author's Note: "Insomnia Road Trip" was a (losing) entry in Glossy Planet's "Doomscroll" Challenge. Image created on Canva using photos by Matteo Paganelli on Unsplash and Annie Spratt on Unsplash.