You know how it is when the air in your chest feels like it’s getting thick? Like there’s a biological pressure building up in the cardiovascular system and if you don’t let it out the whole goddamn engine is gonna blow. You’re sitting there in a six-figure German car, wearing a suit that costs more than your first apartment, and you feel like a total fucking fraud. It’s that suburban rot, I guess. You spend all day arguing about mergers or some bullshit liability clause, then you gotta go home and deal with your dad not remembering your name and your kid asking for another five grand for a degree that won't even get her a job. The morgage is paid but the house feels empty as shit. I’ve noticed this recurring physiological state where the only way to lower the heart rate is to create a complete sensory disconnect. You’re parked behind the courthouse, right? Between those high-stakes sessions where everyone is looking at you like you’re the smartest guy in the room and you have to be "on" every second. If they saw what was happening inside the cabin, they’d think I had a goddamn stroke. I’ve analyzed the data and apparently, the brain needs a specific frequency of high-tempo auditory input to counteract the massive amounts of stress chemicals flooding the system. It’s a survival mechanism, even if it looks insane from the outside. So you find yourself blasting this absolute garbage. We’re talking 128 beats per minute, pink-glitter-heart, bubblegum pop shit. It’s some girl singing about her first crush or a summer party or some other vapid crap that shouldn’t matter to a man my age. But you’re singing along. You’re hitting every fucking note like your life depends on it. There’s a strange catharsis in the vocalization process—it’s like the lungs are purging the legal jargon and the dread about the nursing home bills. You look in the rearview mirror and see this middle-aged face with grey hair scream-singing some Katy Perry song and it’s just... pathetic. Truly pathetic. But it works. The cortisol levels definitly drop. I probably shouldn't even be posting this. Someone might figure out who I am from the car description or something, though I’m being vague on purpose. People expect a certain level of dignity from someone in my position. You have to maintain the appearance of being "together" for the neighbors and the partners at the firm. If the associates saw me doing this, the professional authority would be compromised instantly. I’m typing this on my phone at 2am because I can’t sleep, and I keep deleting sentences because they sound too whiny.