Nothing cures narcissistic self-pity better than a rabid case of road rage OR how I found reality

June 13, 2009

in therapy in session

After Starbucks, which seemed to be closing since even the cops outside were leaving, I continued to wander in the night. Blasting Sarah Betten’s Scream, I mindless drove first on 53 N, which turned out to be a stupid move since it goes nowhere and ended even before the end of the album.

I turned around and moved onto 90 E, downtown Chicago here I come!

Sarah started singing

I used to know how to change the world
I lie awake at night and envy that girl.

This got me going. For the first time on this fucking crazy shitty day tears came. Flood gate. Cliche always true. I sobbed uncontrollably. Fuck fucking fuck. I am not going to be anybody ever am I ? I will never be truly happy will I ?

All of a sudden, traffic stopped. What the fuck? It is 12:30 AM!? And I was sandwiched between giant trailertrucks. In one second, road rage took over the sobbing ruminating mess. Proustian stream of consciousness self-narration is not a match for

Get out of my way you fucking brute

As I passed by the truck who cut in front of me right before the lane ended. I got in front of him just in time being THIS close to the orange cones because I drive a tiny car.

Yeah! Reality!

I did drive all the way downtown, enjoyed the moment when you get to the end of Ohio facing Sears Tower. I always love that 5 second stretch. Then I turned the other direction.

Thank goodness for highway oasis. 24/7. Otherwise wayward mothers like myself would have nowhere to go…

I could in theory check in a hotel. But I would cross some sort of line, wouldn’t I?

Wandering in the night I am just the insane me…

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