Monday, April 02, 2007

I have conversations in my car. When I am alone. In my head, mostly, but sometimes, verbalizations and gestures release themselves. Occasionally, I find myself flipping off someone in my mind, by virtue of actually extending my middle finger, and then wondering why other drivers keep giving me dirty looks.

I think about all things that I wish people would say to me, and all of my possible responses. I think about all the things I wish I could've or would've said that one time, but didn't. I think about all the times I've wanted to say yes, and didn't. I think about all the times I've wanted to say no , and didn't. I think about all of these things, and I play out these conversations in my brain.

In my mind, I'm a suave, smooth, rapier-witted, acid-tongued supergenius. Meanwhile, in back in the real world, I banged head on my car door today.