I hate you.
Maybe it's not that I hate you. I hate my reality. I hate that my reality has not effected you. I hate that my reality has not made you stop and think. I hate that my reality hasn't changed the way you live.
I hate watching you, I hate watching your carelessness. I hate seeing you do dangerous things. I hate that you cross without a cross walk. I hate that you walk out into traffic. I hate that you cross without the right of way.
I hate that Bram was safe, standing safely with his dad, in a safe parking lot. I hate that he is dead. I hate that you continue to do unsafe things and live without consequence, and my little boy who was safe suffered and died.
I hate that you're not effected. I hate that you're not changed.
Pedestrian, it could have been you, with as careless as you are. But it was my little boy, who was not careless. He was safe.
Pedestrian, every time I see you cross the street without care, without thought, I am jealous. I am hit in the gut with strife that you are not effected by reality.
Pedestrian I hate you. I hate that no amount of safety could have saved my little boy. I hate that your thoughtlessness proves this, day in and day out.
Dear pedestrian, be safe. I don't want your mom to hurt for you as I hurt for my little boy.
Dear pedestrian, be safe.
A broken mother