Brush of the crazy…

Alone in the car, that’s where it happens. I solve all the worlds problems, I talk to whoever I’m mad at and call them names I would never ever say to their face. I even call myself names, if it’s me I’m mad at. I solve political problems, hunger and find the answer to world peace. 

I sing, I give certain people a piece of my mind. It’s clearly cheaper than therapy. If it’s as efficient nobody will ever know, but it’s very cleansing. If it’s safe for the rest of the traffic? At least I don’t put on make-up in the car. Except for lipstick that is, because after yelling at the world it’s important put on lipstick and brush off the crazy, just to make sure it’s gone.

The good thing about discussing and screaming things with yourself in the car, and getting it all out, is that nobody gets injured or hurt, and you feel cleansed. When you arrive at your destination, which might just be around the block or going for a ride just to get out of the house, all is right with the world. Untill next time…

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