No Correct Turn on Red

"It's just a light" I tell myself, yet my hands become cold and clammy and my face as white as the line on which my front tires rest.
"Red arrow means DO NOT TURN."
"Red arrow means DO NOT TURN."
"Red arrow means DO NOT TURN."
I say it aloud to calm myself as the cars behind me honk in blatant disregard for the law. They swerve around my vehicle and eye me with flaring nostrils, occasionally yelling obscenities as they pass. I slouch in my seat and stare at the red arrow, disgusted with the power it has on me.
"Hey asshole! Turn right on red!" yells a bearded construction worker as he menuevers around my vehicle, leaving me to stare at a HOWS MY DRIVING sticker on the bumper of his F-250.
Red arrow means DO NOT TURN. I want to scream it out the window to every ignorant turd that squeezes past my silver Pontiac sphincter. Instead I just continue to slouch, waiting with increasing anticipation for the arrow to turn green.
A small bead of sweat rolls down the center of my nose and falls to my chest. My insides are screaming GO! JUST GO!
My fingers start tapping the steering wheel.
GO! JUST GO!
My jaw begins to tremble and the tears build in my eyes.
GO! JUST GO!
I have had enough. I look left for oncoming cars and slowly lift my foot off the brake. My car creeps forward as I clench the steering wheel. Before turning I take a deep breath and accept the agony of defeat, realizing that I have let pressure from others make my decision. I tell myself I have failed as I look up one last time at the vicious, malevolent, unforgiving.............green arrow.
My chest swells with pride. It's all about self discipline.