Every one of us suffers from some form of dysfunction, which charges our need to act out in dramatic ways. It’s ok, there’s no need to build a defense. Because whatever it is that causes us to project our suffering, we all need to express emotion.
You see, we are often unaware of the root of our anger since it has generally developed from personal trauma endured during the formative years, and when you add the unforgiving stresses that come with modernity, everyone’s pot eventually steams with a piercing whistle. And although every individual’s experience is unique unto themselves, the forum to where much of this frustration is projected is the most common place for public interaction—the grid of shared asphalt.
And what makes the highways and byways the easy arena to cast one’s flared opinions is the fact that each person is secured by a housing of locked doors and fast wheels. This is the haven from where spitting vitriol and emphatic threats towards an utter stranger two times her size will insulate an otherwise pleasant grandmother. Where normally most ordinary individuals would buckle in fear at any face-to-face confrontation with an adversary, within this automobile they personify the confidence of a professional wrestler.
The dissatisfaction of our core sometimes manifests in uncharacteristic ways.
But no one should ever internalize accusations on the blacktop as it is only someone else’s personal anxiety manifesting outwardly. Self-control has never been a strong suit amongst most people when pushed into small spaces, and therefore the discomfort is sometimes blamed on the obstruction preventing them from their desperately needed open space.
Which is exactly why driving stoned should be legal.
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