So wake me up when it's all over.

Dear Subway Preachers,

I hate your stinking guts. I actually enjoy my morning train ride, it is the perfect time for me to jam out in my head to that overplayed Avicii song, go through my grocery list, plan my wedding... you know, normal girl things. So if you would kindly not shove your opinions down my throat that would be glorious. I have no problem with religion, I think it's a wonderful thing to have if it truly means something to you, but you must realize it means something to you...not me. Your experience isn't my experience, just like my experience is not the same as the elderly gentleman resting against the bench across from me, whose views then differ from that of the drunken frat boy listlessly cracking a 40 in the corner. I'm sorry 6 train messiah that you almost got crushed and you broke your head, your back, your legs....but I can't hear your story of enlightenment one more time without wanting to physically smash my head against the obnoxious Zip Car poster and hope to god the blow finishes me off. I just want the jolly old man with his walking stick to sing me Under the Boardwalk, ask for a penny and move on because at least he makes me smile. Do you know God? Did he personally speak the words you are quoting him for?


Sidenote: Tonight I almost kicked my roommate to death when he tried to take my potato's been one of those days. 

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