Hábitos Malos
Es difícil no culpar otros. O no decirlo simplemente esta mala suerte. O no sentir destino, el mundo, trabajando contra mí.
Verdadero, cosas malas suceden. Pero podían suceder ciertamente menos.
Me realizo, soy la razón. Es mis propios defectos malditos. Está debido a mis maneras.
Soy mi propio enemigo peor. Me lastimé como ningún otro.
My bad; Me so sorry.
Please let me explain: I am not a street walker, gigolo, prostitute…whatever. Conversely, I was not trying to rob you. It was an honest mistake. Really!
Me: Beard, Brown Hair, Tall, Slim, White male, Mid-20s. I thought you my friend due to pick me up at the same location (around the corner from my apartment).
You: Black sedan, Black hair, White male, Looked like my friend Jamie (but older).
I probably scared the shit out of you. That was fairly evident by the look on your face. It was also made pretty clear by the "What the Fuck?!!!" you yelled out after I opened the car door and almost climbed in. You slammed your foot down the on gas and sped off down the street. I was whipped out of the doorway, left stumbling in the street. Your door was left wide open. My mouth was.
Did you know you ran over my foot in the 'escape' process? It hurt. Real bad. And my new shoes are messed up too. Maybe I deserve what I got for being so reckless.
Looking back, I guess I would have reacted the same way if I were in your shoes. (Which, by the way, probably aren't as cool as mine. Well, pre-tire.)
Oh, and I THANK GOD you didn't have a gun.
But I'm OK now; the foot's fine. You're OK now; the truth's known. Does this make us even? Apology accepted?
Humbly yours,
JD
P.S. See, downtown's not that scarry after all. You can come back now.
