I always felt as if there was an invisible judge behind my shoulder, writing in his thick black book everything I did and pointing with a pencil accordingly. See, I always wanted to be bad, mischievious, nasty and promiscuous but I couldn’t. I have always been lucky it is true. I have always found my bank card, despite the fact that I have no memory to speak of; I have always somehow survived, even though I spend money faster than I can get it and I have no sugar daddy; I still have my independence in a house full of parents, cousins and well-meanign friends, and I still have all my hair despite the oncoming grays sneaking in.
But that time I broke someone’s heart? whoops, lived myself with a broken heart for a lot of years. The time I lied to my cousin, I stepped on dog poop. When I ignore a phone call, I get paper cuts. Thinking about somebody with hairy legs and ugly shoes, boom goes my head on the doorframe. Beeing nasty to the busboy, my heel breaks on the way home. That is why when I learned about karma, it felt like coming home. I am plagued with instant karma. Not in another lifetime, not in three years hence, now. I am not bad, not because I do not like it, but because strange calamities befall me when I dare venture in the b.b. region. So I have a list of good deeds that I do, in order to get instant karma, and maybe use it against that time in the future when I will get drunk and paddle the busboy with his fake designer leather belt, right in front of the bitchy brazilian hostess who will tremble when her turn comes.







![Drop Crown.. [ Explore #1 ] Drop Crown.. [ Explore #1 ]](http://static.flickr.com/4059/4231438863_17461115ac_t.jpg)

