Right now, it does. It really does.
I was driving, with my dad in the passenger's seat, when this humongous roofing truck with a flatbed hit me from behind. I wasn't stopping short or going too slow. In other words, it just wasn't my fault.
I was in the middle of a mild rant on how the person in front of me wasn't a good driver when I felt a huge SMACK. A huge truck hit me from behind. Let me explain to you how huge it was. There is no damage to my bumper, but my trunk is sooooo messed up. That's how high off the ground it was.
My dad called the cops, and this officer came and took all my information. I hope she gave that %@$^#&$&&@$$ a ticket, because he really deserves it. Do you know that the driver DID NOT CARE if I was okay or not? Never asked. I could be dead, for all he cared. I'm gonna pray that the insurance picks up the costs and charges that mother effer for all he's got.
I was freaking out about it at first. I was calm for the cops and all, but I flipped. My voice was about ten decibels higher than normal and I was using the f-word every five seconds. My dad kept telling me to calm down, and I really hate when people tell me to calm down. It just makes me worse.
I get so angry sometimes. I always feel like I'm not allowed to get mad. I feel like it's always, "You just keep on being the good girl, Ashley." Someone said that to me once. Don't get hysterical, Ash. You don't have the right to cry. Why are you angry? I should be angry.
I'm sick of being the good girl. I'm tired of being responsible. But what other choice do I have? It's either that or do something stupid that I don't want to do anyway, like drugs or drinking, etc. None of that makes anything better.
"So, tell me about the ninjas."