On mornings when I feel  tired, the absolute worst scenario is being late to school. Rushing through my morning routine, I desperately hope that the traffic lights are on my side today. Yet it seems that just for me, the traffic lights are so perfectly, terribly coordinated, flashing bright blaring scarlets whenever I’m late to school. 

There’s no way there isn’t a person constantly watching and controlling the lights on the inside.

As soon as the people in the traffic lights  sense the slightest trace of fear or urgency in me, their sinister inclinations surface. In a malevolent display of red, they conspire to bring my vehicle to an involuntary halt. Meanwhile, my parents seize the opportunity to bestow upon me a life lesson on the importance of waking earlier and not being late.

At this point, with the combination of a monotonous lecture and the mischievous traffic lights, frustration simmers inside of me until I am about ready to burst. If only I could confront these traffic lights, I would do so without hesitation. 

There’s just no way all of this is a coincidence. Maybe there’s an unspoken alliance between these traffic light guardians and the punctuality gods. And as much as I may grumble about their timing, I can’t help but wonder if they’re secretly trying to teach me a lesson of patience and time management, one red light at a time. 

Perhaps it’s not a conspiracy, just a simple result of the mindless algorithm combined with intricate sensors scanning the roads. Nonetheless, there is still a shred of doubt that lingers in my inner self. One is allowed to imagine after all.