Am I even close to sanity anymore?

As one thing that I worry about leaves my tiny brainspace, another seems to appear in its place to vex me and to trouble me in my overnight waking weirdnesses.
My car seems to be making odd noises again, and also seems to be determined to pull me over to the left side of the road and force me into a hedge or two. If I let go of the steering wheel at anything north of twenty miles per hour it heads for the kerb quicker than a drunk teenager on a blackout. And I know that, legally speaking, I shouldn't let go of the steering wheel while driving, but how else am I supposed to test my theory that my car is possessed? Because that, dear reader, is the conclusion I have come to. There is not a minor mechanical fault or a need to pump up the tyres - I am actually in the unfortunate position of being in possession of a vehicle that is in the throes of its own possession. Beelzebub lurks beneath my bonnet. Satan is in my spark plugs. The Devil inhabits my distributor cap. I am probably two weeks away from being found upside down in a tree, still held in place by my seatbelt, after ploughing through a group of pensioners at a bus stop. And it won't be ME that was in the driving seat, you understand. It will have been HIM - The Dark Lord; Lucifer; Old Nick. Send me an Exorcist, quick, and have him pick up a pizza on the way. I'm peckish. Encountering evil makes me hungry...

RC 22-10-24