An Open Letter To Karma

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Dear Karma,

I’m not sure what I did earlier in this life or in one of my past lives to piss you off, but you suck. Every time I think I’m starting to make a little progress (and I’m not even hoping for ‘getting ahead of the game’ status), you come along and kick the ladder out from under me. And that ladder is perched over a tall, scary cliff that ends in a pool of hungry crocodiles and (wo)man eating swamp rats. All surrounded by poison ivy and crazy, navigationally challenged fruit bats. This is your equivalent to the nine levels of hell with a Disney twist, isn’t it?

Waking up and finding I’m 35 cents in the hole in my account when I have to buy bread was a bummer. Going out to the truck to find someone slashed one of my tires was more of a throat punch. Do you know how hard it is to buy a tire when you can’t even rub together two nickels? But the real kick in the crotch was your evil little bait and switch when the hubby was told to expect a $6 an hour pay raise and gets blindsided with a $2 an hour pay raise. I’m just beside myself giddy that we paid $700 to get him that coveted Class A CDL with all endorsements so his boss would promise him a big pay raise.

And let’s talk about this little thing called my writing career for a moment. You know I’ve been working towards it and dreaming about it since I was old enough to hold a crayon and write a coherent sentence. So, why the hell do you keep dropping traumatic life crap in my way to side track me and make me shelve my dream? Are you shooting for revenge AND a steaming pile of depression? It’s working in case you haven’t noticed.

I’d really like to see YOU get a dish of your own medicine. Or at least throw me a bone and tell me that I’ll win the lottery (the sooner the better) and will have to deal with all the horrible effects of living on a private island in the tropics (cabana boy included). I don’t think that’s too much to ask. I’d even settle for one good year for every two shitty years. Because, as it stands right now, I’m looking at a 5 for 1 deal and it’s sucking to the core.

I know if you’ve heard it once, you’ve heard it a million times; you are a bitch. I can only imagine you sitting on your comfy chaise lounge, sipping a refreshing fruity drink and laughing your sadistic ass off while watching the world cry behind your designer shades. Yeah, I’m hating you a little bit right about now. The only thing that keeps me going is knowing that my living another day is you not winning that one. 

So, enjoy that drink that I’ve paid for with my blood, sweat, and tears. One of these days, I’ll be sitting next to you, checking out the hot, male swimsuit model, swilling down top shelf whiskey all while signing autographs for my latest best seller. Keep that chair open for me, I’ll be there eventually.

Much love,

A bitch that takes a beating but keeps on ticking.