Alone in my car

As much as I hate driving, my car is one of the most comforting places to me. I get to be alone, but I’m never lonely.

When I’m alone in my car, the world melts away. My brain turns off and I become one with the music. I crank the volume up and escape from my life as I enter a moving concert. I get to choose the set list.

For however long I’m in the car, I am granted an excuse to detach from my own reality and step into a more ideal one. The most dire thing in that moment is making sure the music I play serves that purpose.

My stereo settings let me turn the bass up to the point where my car visibly shakes. The feeling is so similar to the seismic waves of a stadium during a concert. I let that feeling swallow me whole. 

The expectations that people have for me no longer exist. The way that people feel about me does not matter. I simply enjoy the company of my speakers and act the way I wish I could at any given moment. It’s the way I truly am, but am too afraid to show to others.

I can laugh. I can cry. I can belt along to a ballad as loud as I want. I am never too much. When I’m alone in my car, I can be myself.

While there are times that I need a break from my life, my car provides me a place where I’m allowed to let my feelings out.

As soon as I shut my door and turn on the ignition, I get to release every emotion that I’ve kept bottled up inside me. I’m not looking for someone to console me. The music is enough.

There is nothing more therapeutic than going 50 mph down a country road while blaring a song about feeling misunderstood. “Too Strange For the Circus” by Debbii Dawson plays at a volume that’s harmful to the ears and blocks out any noise coming from outside. The tears can fall freely without feeling like my emotions are a burden to someone else. I can think about myself.

I am allowed to take up space without needing a ticket. From my car, I can grasp that feeling of understanding that only exists when I’m watching someone spill their guts out on a stage.

My car doesn’t judge me if I am too loud. My car doesn’t care how many times I play the same song in one ride. My car doesn’t tell me to calm down while I am bawling my eyes out after being criticized at work.

My car doesn’t make me feel like I have to hide myself.

I do understand that while my car may feel like a protective bubble, people can still see me.

Even though my car is like a fishbowl, I barely think about how others on the road might perceive me. They might be doing the same exact things in their car, but the tinted windows just make it harder to see them.

It’s in that scenario that I can see that other people are just like me. Everyone has their own way to decompress. Other people have the same thoughts running through their heads. However, I am unable to apply that logic to everything.

I don’t know why I feel so protected from judgment when I’m in my car. I wish life was like a math equation, where I could use the same formula for every similar scenario.

I want to go to a doctor's appointment as if I’m alone in my car. I want to walk around campus as if I’m alone in my car. I want to wander around a store by myself as if I’m alone in my car.

I am so tired of feeling like I am not allowed to be somewhere just because it’s only me. I don’t plan out everything that I have to say in a conversation when I’m alone in my car. I don’t try to filter out things that might offend people when I’m alone in my car.

I think people would like me if they saw what I’m like when I’m in my car. They wouldn’t just see a person who watches everyone around them and never speaks.

I allow myself to be who I am, but only in secret. I guess I’m uncomfortable with who I am when I’m around other people. Why can’t I just be alone in my car all the time?

Image by Adonyi Gábor on Pexels