Dear Karma,
You’s my Bitch. That’s right, I just called out Karma. Because I can do that. Here’s why.
Karma, you seem high and mighty from a distance, but what are you really? Was it you that sprained my ankle after helping a friend move, or was that the brick in the grass. Because it seemed a lot like a brick. Hidden. In the grass, where things that sprain your ankle belong. Unlike you Karma, whom I have brought to light. So maybe I fell because I was stoned, but that’s still not you, you’re not that fun.
In most of my encounters with you, you’re just another social platitude. Like Relationship Statuses and Race (both of which are on my list). So why don’t we stop saying Karma and start saying what we really mean.
I am not going to regret this.
Madly,
W.B.R.H.