I hate Neons.
To be more specific, I hate silver ones. However, just about any Neon I see nearly kills me.
I'm sure she hates civics. Black ones at that. If I were her, I probably would.
They remind me of all those nights I walked out of work, looking foward to having someone follow me home, only to have my hopes crushed by the sight of her silver car parked next to his. They remind me of the morning my good intentions went horribly wrong. Glowing from the frew brief moments I spent with him, my heart stopped the moment I realized who had just driven past his house at the exact moment I was walking to my car.
The very sight of one of those cars, whether it's hers or not, makes my stomach tighten up in a million knots. I wouldn't be surprised if any time she sees my car, it inspires a git of rage in her. While I can't say for sure, she must have a horrible reaction to anything involving me. I can only imagine the things he has to put up with the moment I am involved.
With all of that in mind, can you even begin to imagine how difficult it is for me to walk across three parking lots to get to the tower at Chrysler? My poor, anxiety-riddled body...it seems as though every third car happens to be a Neon...every other Neon happens to be silver.
I don't suppose I can expect any of you to understand just what I am going through at the moment. I know it takes a special kind of neurotic to identify a particular thing, in this case a car, as being some sort of threatening symbol. Of course, I am that special sort of neurotic. That's how you ended up reading a strange entry such as this.
Although...isn't it easy to see why I would find anything at all about her as being threatening?