To the man who hit me with his car when I was crossing the street

Not a day passes that I wish you had seen me

But you didn’t. You never even looked my way.

After the hit you never acted like you gave a fig about what you did.

All you ever said was “get out of the road so cars can drive through”

Never coming close to me, you only schmoozed with the cops at the scene.

Did your tongue become silvery around them? Did they believe you when you told them “he came out of nowhere”?

I have to deal with what happened every day-

The pain, the missed work, the limp I’ll probably have my whole life now, the trauma that I must deal with…

Were you even inconvenienced when you hit me?

Here’s the kicker; the part that’ll probably make you laugh—

I don’t want to hate you.

I want to know what could’ve possibly caught your attention so much

You couldn’t look where you were going.

I want to know what, if anything, had gotten you in a rush to turn without looking.

I want to understand why the flow of traffic was more important to you than a human in pain was.

I don’t want to hate you

But you’re making it hard.