One of them days

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I looked down into a black hole, at the fancy looking diesel engine who runs all smooth and soft and seemingly perfect and currently only has one disturbance: me. My fingers were frozen solid and I was frowning and cussing, shivering from the tremendous cold. Suddanly I hear someone snorth. I look up. There was a man walking by. He looked at me as though he thought I might be trying to give the engine a manicure. For a moment I saw myself reflected in his eyes. Though helplessly tom-boy-ish, I am of the sort that will never pass for a guy, ever. Kiss-mouth, like a baby, knees locked together and helplessly facing each other as though in constant acknowledgment of their shortcomings, and my facial expressions ranging from scared to looking like I want to cry. I probably looked like an idiot, like a dog trying to walk on his hind legs and failing miserably. Up until it actually manages it's not merely a pioneer, it makes people sad and angry and embarrassed and frustrated. I sighed and slammed the hood down hard, too hard, audibly like an idiot now. I step around the car to get in. I knew how to drive at least, reverse all good even. Some guy I didn’t know even looked all starry eyed and waved once when I pulled a complicated maneuver reversing and skipping between cars to get out of an overcrowded gas station. But just now I'm feeling so stupid, so empty.

But what is it to be whole, and what is it to be empty or incomplete? After all, as far as I could tell, I still had all my body parts with me. Nobody had taken them from me, I'm almost certain I would have noticed. It would have registered on the scale if nothing else I figured. So this funny feeling of emptiness must be a hoax, a fraud, a trick that someone is playing on me. But who? The spirit of the times I should think... I've heard talk of it and it sounds awfully scary to me! I look around hastily, worried at this point! But how could I tell were it was so I could chase it off with a stick?! Man, does it play dirty. It's probably here, right next to me in the car, whispering to me, planting ideas in my head that I can barely register, not until they've grown and intertwined and mixed with my own at least. When they've grown into dark, live shadows that tint my every thought and poison my perceptions with their phony illusions of truth and reality. Someone is out to get me, and it's that stupid thing I cant even see. Where is that stick now, cause I really feel like something to grab onto. This whole situation had taken on the feeling of a scary movie and I could have been running around like a headless monkey by now, trying to outrun my own mind. But there is one thing that is absolutely crucial to remember in such times of despair, and it is that though we might be seemingly at the whim of the forces of our minds, we are in the end the only creator and master of our own inner world and we need to kick out any fools that think they're entitled to pulling our strings.

Come to think of it, if one were to measure my head, it would be evident that it is in fact massive. Though you might rightfully argue that this would not stop me being an airhead, I once hit my head real hard, and when I stumbled into the doctors office, going on 5 days in a mindless haze, he said I had a concussion, also known as mild “traumatic brain injury”. See? There is the magical B-word! Right in the middle even. I do believe one needs to have a brain to actually injure it.. Also, I would argue that it is a clear indication of dimness to assume you are right to pass judgment on anyone's thinking machine without even having a proper look at it. Anyone would be out of their capacity there.

I smiled and suddenly an idea struck as I spotted my purse beside me, where the supposed mental spectrum had be present just a second ago. I looked out the window and spotted the man from before across the lot. I narrowed my eyes. What had I been thinking? He looked downright harmless now. Surely he wouldn't jump me or anything, so long as I didn’t hassle him. I reached into my purse and I pulled out my multitool and opened the hood again. By help of pliers and sheer force, I finally managed to wedge the reluctant cap off so I could empty a bottle of windshield liquid into it. That wasn’t too hard, was it? I'm not helpless in the least after all. I know nobody can tell, but I put these tires on the car myself, and they even went on the right way, cause I'm not an idiot, and contrary to popular belief, no given set of body parts are required to do this job, besides maybe your hands.