Homecoming

Here is a snippet for the new short story I'm writing...I'd love some feed back:

I can’t stand silence.  It gives me an opportunity to think and thinking makes me choke on reality.  Reality…the inevitable truths that dominate one’s fears, these are the products of thinking.  Realizing you’re not perfect, realizing your own mortality…it’s depressing.  I’d rather not think or…imagine.  Why can’t the quixotic  musings of childhood consume my adult mind?  Instead I’m plagued with the realization of who I am again and it makes me sick.  I blame it on the not so gentle roll of the bus as we slowly crawl down 95 south towards Savannah, towards my hometown; towards my past; towards…think further… my demons.  The ones I’ve swept under the rug for 10 years only to find they never went away.  It’s time to clean properly now and I’m feeling lethargic; yet I still can’t sleep.  This bus is too quiet.   

Lady A