Road Rage

I'd rather not be writing this, because it's embarrassing.
But part of my new policy on life is admitting to all of my unsavory behaviors and poor choices, because it keeps me from repeating them in the future and falling into unhealthy patterns. Simply put, it helps me be a good person, which I've been all about lately.

You know how you hear about road rage on the news, reports of people slamming their brakes, getting out of their cars, and screaming at each other in the middle of the street like psychopaths? And you think, who in the hell are these jackasses? What the fuck is wrong with people these days?

Today, I was that jackass.

I should start by explaining how I spent my morning and early afternoon. My friend PK (stupid abbreviation, I know) and I decided to take a trip to the mall. I had to try on a pair of boots so that I knew the size to order online later. We visited a few stores, but PK could tell something was off about me. I was being mopey, thinking about certain places I go and some of the people I spend my time with, wondering if they were really helping me become the person I want to be. PK did his best to entertain me and snap me out of my morose, but I was having none of it. I can be kind of a dick like that.

So instead of sharing our usual chatter, our inappropriate jokes and poorly-planned puns, PK was forced to listen to me drone about how I always feel like I'm falling behind while my friends have new successes with careers and graduate schools. He emphasized that a lot of my friends are three to eleven years older than me, so of course they're farther along, but I didn't really listen. Like I said, I can be kind of a dick like that.

I dropped PK off at his apartment, which happens to be in the same house I previously lived in for three years. On my drive home there's an intersection, it's a turn I'd driven countless times during my three years living in the neighborhood, a left turn onto a one way. I carefully looked to the right, and after a single car passed, I made my left turn.

There was a honk, and I looked up to see a car facing mine, a car going the wrong direction down the one way. There was a girl inside, waving her arms in the air and rolling her eyes as if I'd done something wrong.

And before I knew it, my car was in park, and I was outside her window shouting, pointing at the One Way sign and telling her to back the fuck up. Back your car the fuck up and turn around you fucking moron. Don't roll your eyes at me like a snotty bitch.

Other words used: stupid, cunt, dumb, retarded, ass, damn. My vocabulary wasn't exactly extensive at the time.

It was so classy. Classy, now there's a word I'm proud to have in my vernacular.

Moments ago I had been pondering self-improvement and the secrets to bettering myself, and here I was yelling at a girl like a lunatic. This was a horrible step towards improving myself.

I've told a few friends what happened and have received nothing but applause, cheers and high-fives. Even through text messages and phone conversations, I could feel the pats on the back.

But I'm still so embarrassed, the way I always am when I release emotions, affection or rage, it doesn't matter. The feelings are different but the embarrassment always lingers.

Because these feelings mean I'm losing control, the control I work so hard to maintain to keep myself from acting like a crazy person, to keep myself from behaving like those people on the news who commit assault over chicken nuggets.

I was probably accurate when I described that girl using some of the awful, derogatory language I used.

But I hope she accepts my apology.