I Was Mugged Essays -- Personal Narrative, essay about myself

I was mugged tonight. It was about 11pm, and I was walking home from the gym, and for some reason I decided to the Other Route. I walked down Valencia to 15th instead of 14th, and headed down the block that's supposed to be one of the worst in the city, along the side of the Valencia Street Projects. It was a beautiful, warm night, and tons of people were hanging out outside. It looked like a few drug deals were being had, but usually no one hassles me. I was wearing my torn up jeans jacket that I bought 13 years ago in high school, my jogging shorts and old Nikes, and my hair was all messy. How the hell could I have looked like a person with money? I was walking down this one particular block, thinking to myself, "wow, racism is bad." And then I thought about how this block was one of the first things that people warned me about when I moved into my hood, and how mad at me my ex-boyfriend John would be if he knew I was walking down that street, and how my parents would be pissed, and how really, logically speaking, it was a pretty stupid thing to do. But I made eye contact with one dude who was pretty cute and he smiled at me and I smiled at him and I kept walking, thinking, "well, there are some cute people in the projects." I wa... ...ds them. "You pathetic losers! You got my money, but you don't have my pride." (Sure it is a clichà ©, but hell, give me some credit, I did just get mugged!) "You two are the losers for doing that!" Why bother filing a report? These skinny kids have enough problems without having the cops go in there and remind them how desperate and lacking in dignity they are. In the war between good and evil, it is not always who walks away with the goods, but the who deserved them in the first place, and how they were attained. So I trotted home to write this up. Thirty bucks for a story to tell. Not a bad deal, really.