This is Why I Hate People

Last night on my way home, some dude decided to not pay attention to the lane next to him, and merge in at his own leisure. Because I can't read minds, I kept going at my own pace, not knowing that instead of slowing down and waiting for me to pass him, said dude was going to speed up, forcing me to go into the other side of the road and speed up to go around him.

I'm admittedly not the best driver in the world. I wasn't going to sweat the dude being an idiot; maybe he was just having an off day. His bad driving is not why I hate people. No, I hate people because at the next stoplight, dude pulled up next to me, rolled down his window, and honked at me to roll mine down too. I mean, seriously? I had heard that people do that, but never experienced the phenomenon myself. I weighed my options. I could roll my window down and make a futile attempt to get my point across in the three seconds before the light turned green, or I could go ahead my make my right turn. I turned.

But even though the guy was a jerk, and I knew I didn't do anything wrong, I burst into tears and sobbed the rest of the way home. Something about the confrontation, the feeling of shame that someone was mad at me, really hit home. Today I'm feeling a little more angry than sad. But it didn't stop me from having anxiety the entire drive to work, feeling that another confrontation was right around the corner.

And that is why I hate people.