Give me the blame

Running late for the first time in days, moths, ages. Everything seems to be running in slow-motion like WTF.


Yeah, I know this is not like me. I’m a stranger to myself, right now. I didn’t mean this to happen. What a mess. And here I am waiting for the bus. Everyone else seems alright, not worried and extra happy. Am I being paranoid now? Is it just not normal for me all of this?


 Yeah. My all-time favorite word used against me. Should I blame my non-working alarm clock for this? Should I? Or should I blame me for pulling an all-nighter? I’m starting to remember a couple of drinks. Damn, margaritas. No, bless margaritas. I love, Margarita. Even more when you are waiting in your night gown, a tall-frozen glass.


As I press the home button on my phone and the amazing number of missed calls appear on the screen I can’t help it but blame myself for being everything but me today.

Autor: León Alberto

I Was Pandora... And Then I Got Over It.


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