The Fastest Way From Point A to Point B is a Straight Line

This was inspired by a prompt which said to write about a decision you've made in second person.

Make sure your wallet is in your bag. Grab your water bottle, fill it up. Open the garage door. Pull on your shoes. Walk to the car and try to open the door. Realize you forgot your smart key. Go back inside and realize you don’t know where your keys are. Don’t bother to take off your shoes. Look up at the ceiling as you recall the last time you held or saw them. Remember that you stuffed them in the pocket of your jeans you eagerly shed last night. Retrieve your keys. Leave the house, again. Successfully enter the car, semi-gently throwing everything you carry onto the passenger’s seat. Push in the brake pedal and press the start button. Reverse down your driveway ignoring the flashing red light insisting the person in the passenger seat needs to buckle their seat belt. 

 The first stop light presents the question: which way should you take? You think, where do I have to be? Do I have time to walk? Where will I end my day? You analyze a green light as support for whatever your intuition is telling you. A red light, obviously, means you’re wrong. Should you park at the bottom of that hill, neatly hidden behind the central area of campus?  Are you ready for that breath taking hike today? There's always the option of parking on either side of campus, whichever is closest to your first class of the day. Or should you try your luck with that newly expanded lot? Equally center as your first choice, it offers the advantage of no offensively steep hills. You look at the clock on your dashboard. You know it fills up quickly. Double check the time on your phone. You might be able to make it.  

The second stop light swings you to the right, unless, do you want to go the other way? Straight then left, or right, then right if you went left, or straight if you went right. All these roads make you feel like a bug in a not so sticky spider web, allowing you the chance to escape. Every once in a while, you’ll think about how the roads go past the school, too. They don’t end in those parking lots with the cars you’ll start to recognize and all those little red, round stickers like drops of blood sealing a contract. (You must drive here, you must drive yourself, you must be driven- by your self.) You could drive to the mall instead. Or the river. Or the next state. But even if you did, the question would still have to be asked: which way should you take? 

Author's Note

Is anything confusing? In particular, I would like thoughts on the last section. For me, this is a metaphoric essay, but I'm not sure if that's evident to readers. Any and all thoughts are appreciated. Thank you (: