Note to Bus Driver on 82

Dear Bus Driver on 82,

Okay, I’ll admit…
It was...like 12% my fault
14%
26%
49%
Numbers roll across my mind like the words out of my mouth,
As I curse that abomination, that scorn of mankind
With his tussled blue uniform and unkempt hair
With his crusty looking glasses and condemning stare
I hate him

“You kids always listening to your headphones!
You never pay attention to directions
You’re always in your own dimension
I should not be the one telling you what stop to get off at”

How dare he treat me like a typical teenager?
Maybe others can listen to their shallow music and soulless lyrics
But my Ipod is more dignified than that
Whether it’s smooth jazz or gospel choir
I promise to strive for something higher than the low expectations society has placed upon us teens

But you don’t see that
You cut me down before my first word is spoken
You think that I am just “one of those teens”
You make your world built from stereotypes and lies
Your eyes are blinded to the fact that I can be different

You think that we all have to be the same by our physical description
You seem to have a conviction whatever I say, it won’t change your decision
Because whether I am of different race, color, or religion,
You will still see me and define me based off of this one definition
You won’t give me any sympathy or second chance

But while these thoughts cloud my mentality
I’m snapped back to reality, and I see him looking at me still
This time, with a sardonic look
As he waits for me to get off, for I have wasted enough of his time
His eyes roll faster than the wheels of this cursed metal monster

“Devon was the last stop sir!” He shouts
“Maybe if you had paid attention you wouldn’t have these doubts”

I turn, and though I wish to strike him down,
I make no sound, and let my anger fly out
As I unleash the floodgates and empty my mind
Of all my anger and fury

Was I supposed to know that McCormick meant Devon? 
Why must you poke holes into my personal balloon called “directionally challenged”
As the air saps out and my secret is loose
Why must I bear your words and have them flutter like an assassin in my ear and have them stay there, not coming out
Letting the spices of mockery permeate and sit on my head
Did I deserve your cruel words and cruel expression? 
As you beat my confidence to the ground without submission?
You should have known the route...It was not my fault
You spawn of the demon, that’s what you are!
It was just one mistake
Yet like an earthquake, you break down the wall of cordiality that protects me and vent
You’re a sad excuse for a human being
A Hamlet without a his father
Odysseus without his Penelope
Winston without Julia
Marko Palmas without his Ariadne
How can you condemn me before you even get to know me?

Haha well I know who you are!
Your life needs no explanation
Your heart is only filled with evil motivations
So I’ll leave, and never see you again
And while I’ll be a veteran you must begin
To realize what you did wrong

But...what am I doing?
Am I condemning you?
Have I committed the very crime that I have been berating you about all this time?
Now I see that the joke is on me
As I attempt to take revenge
I too swim at the shallow end of the pool
I search for no depth and swim only in comfort, seeking rest

But you too are created in the image of God
You too can receive the gift of redemption through Jesus
And though I’ll probably never see you again, I just want to say sorry
Not just for my cruel words and angry thoughts, but for the fact that I focused on certain spots of you, and made them define you
For not taking into account your history
Feelings
Desires
And struggles
Forgive me, I’ll will be better

Sincerely, 

Zachary Lee