Excuse me if you can’t understand my typo filled sentences. That’s because I can’t tuoe anymore. But first off, thank yiu for so many thinhs. I’ve never tasted sand. Not until you ran me over with your motorcycle and I fell and hurt myself. I didn’t even realize I’d gottne hit till I saw blood. Not a lot. A little.
Thank you for not even apologizing ro me. I’ve never felt so small. Like my life isn’t worth it.
I’ve to do a ton of paperwork but now, thanks ti you, I can’t write for weeks. And I have a test tomorrow. I wish you’d go write for me.
Have you woken up from nightmares over and over again, screaming?
That’s me noe. Only it hurts to lie down. To eat. To breathe. I’ve been throwing up because the pain is a thousand times worse than the ones caused by my dysmenorrhoea. And the best part? A cocktail of painkillers ain’t helping shite. My skin feels like it’s on fire all the time. I still forgive you though. I tried being vengeful once, it took a toll on me, so you’re one free chicken.
Only, I wish you’d apologized. I’m a strong person and I walked it off – to the grocery store I was going to when you hit me. Bad idea. I don’t think my leg would feel normal again.
Seriously, who talks on the phone while riding their motorcycle? And who hits a pedestrian randomly in the middle og a deserted lane? Don’t do it the next time.
Also, thanks for showing me my body is weak and can’t take a pounding. One tiny accidnrt and I’m hobbling like an eighty year old with arthritis. Can’t look in the mirror without wincing. I look like a dalmatian. All of me is dotted with purple and painful bruises. Lucky thing I am right? Nothing is in pieces.
Thank you for nearly wrecking me.
PS: You also showed me who my true friends are. One bitch actually suggested I rant about this, and that’s it. Not even a show of fake concern. So thank you. That bitch is now ancient history.