“Unmasking Beauty: What Your Reflection Really Says About You”
By the way, have you noticed that literally no other cars look like me? None. They’re all curvy and inviting and then there’s me. My dashboard is made of fake marble, for Christ’s sake. I used to tell myself it made me unique and that was a good thing, but it isn’t, is it? It’s just really fucking tacky. And why is my rear door heavy enough to chop people’s hands off? Like WTF? Why? I hate it. I’m disgusting and I should just die.
Seriously, I’m a rusty, busted-
ass trapezoid that no one would find attractive unless they were blind or immature or desperate. Who else would drive me but some desperate pig with terrible taste who wears sneakers with his suits and blogs about crypto and only wants to take me to strip clubs?
Screw it. I’m so sick of this fucking piece of shit life. The next time I’m in full self-driving mode, I’m going to speed down the highway and crash into everything I see. If I’m going down, I’m taking all the cruel, name-calling assholes with me.
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