[ WP ] Stuck

My god, why, of all the buses in all the world, did you have to walk onto mine? I was having such a nice day before you had to come in here with your smug I ’ m-better-than-you walk, the way you easily got a seat from that young man with a flutter of your eyelids while I was left standing. Why did you choose to torture me today, when everything was going so well for me? I hadn ’ t had to encounter anyone nearly as unpleasant as you for a while, but now the hate for you boiled my blood in nothing flat. 
 
 Of course, you don ’ t have to acknowledge my presence for my anger to rise up, and I suppose that ’ s part of the problem: you go around acting like you ’ re queen to the pawns, the world is your chessboard and you ’ re free to move wherever you choose, whether or not that puts lesser pieces at stake. You aren ’ t nearly as great as everyone thinks you are because deep, deep down, we all think you ’ re a raging bag of bitch. That ’ s right, the gentleman who offered you his seat in a misguided attempt at flattery will soon discover this when you spurn his advances, the sandwich artist at Subway learned it when you completely disregarded her while she tried to make conversation with you. Hell, your parents probably groaned when they first saw you, seeing the spawn of Satan that had inadvertently been switched with their little bundle of joy. 
 
 I ’ ve got everything you ’ ve got. I can do everything you can. And more! 
 
 You got off. 
 
 Now what do I do? 
 
 ( *I know I deviated from the prompt a little bit, but I thought this was a nice piece*. )
