I'm Definitely Going to be Killed by a Soccer Mom

You know that paranoid feeling you get when someone is driving behind you for a little too long and you start to convince yourself they are following you? Obviously it's just some random person on their way home from work or something and they just happen to be going in the same general direction as you for a while, but that little voice in the back of your head is like: 

"This is it. We're about to be killed to death by rear-view mirror murderer. They're going to stab us in the neck with a sharpened tire iron then cut off all our skin and craft it into a pair of fashionable short shorts."

First of all brain, props on coming up with that sweet headline grabbing murderer name on the fly like that, Rear-View Murderer is dope as hell. But short shorts? That's pretty unrealistic. No self respecting serial killer/ amateur human leather enthusiast is going to be that wasteful. They'd at least get a decent sport coat out of us. Have some pride. 

Skin coats aside, I worry about murderers following my car so much you'd think I was the perky twenty-something female character in the opening scene of literally every shit horror movie ever made. At least three times a week I end up spending five to ten minutes of some car ride somewhere looking in my mirror every four seconds trying to memorize the license plate of the car behind me. Presumably the idea here is so I can scrawl it on ground in my blood with the last of my strength so that when Horatio Caine arrives on at the crime scene he can be like:

"Well, looks like this guy had.... 

a license to be killed..."

It's gotten to the point where I have driven directly past my house and pulled into the parking lot of the business down the street so the car behind me doesn't see me pulling in and know where I live. You know, in case they were just doing the preliminary stalking now and intend to come back later in the middle of the night and kill me then. 

Sometimes I'm afraid this is an escalating problem. Does it start with worrying about cars behind me and by the time I'm forty I have a weird Beautiful Mind conspiracy shed complete with a maniac wall of stings and push pins?  Sometimes I look at older people and see the weird conspiracy theories they come up with about how everyone is out to get them and somebody is stealing from their stash of hard candies and I get real worried about my own future.

Please tell me I'm not alone here and at least someone else out there is as worried about this as I am.

If in ten years any of you guys see me darting through the streets of your town trying to shake off invisible pursuers just call my family and tell them where I am. Or maybe just throw a coat over me to calm me down. I hear that works with rabbits.