Hello tumblr. Ok, why is tumblr not in its own dictionary?
Anyway, I’m in a horrible mood and I’m going to take it out on you because too many people look at my Facebook and Twitter.
In other words, congratulations, you’ve been picked to get yelled at. Yay you!
Do you hate those mistakes you make when you know perfectly well you shouldn’t be doing that mistake and you do it anyway and of course it comes back and EATS OFF YOUR FACE! I do that all the time.
The consequences don’t usually show up all at once though. Thrice in two days, but close enough that I am now rather depressed. Or compressed. Or some such.
The man is bringing me down, man! Well, they were all women, but I think I was rude to them first. Or is the term creepy? Probably creepy. I hate being a creepazoid. Everyone and your family knows about it. I surround myself with people too polite to mention it. It’s hell.
I am a writer. So finding another writer, you’d think we’d suddenly be best friends. Yay, someone else with my shitty problems. But she totally ignored me. I get that a lot. But it really sucked this time. Perhaps the only other avowed English-speaking writer in this whole damned city, maybe this whole damned country, and she completely ignores me. Ok, not completely. But she was absorbed in talking to other people. Ok, they were her friends, but you have to meet new people some time, right?
The other two people was from one other mess. Old, old mess. Shouldn’t have touched it again. Never going to be able to dig that priceless family heirloom from the dirty, moldering pile of clothes that is this mess. And it sucks. But it’s sucked for a long time. I NEED to get over it.
Does it suck that the only reason she would talk to you is because she thought you were going to die? Yes, yes it does.
I think this post is funny. It’s probably not.
Alright, ranting done. I’m going to go mope.
EDIT: Also, my glasses make me look like a hipster. This sucks.
Also, I do know other writers. None of them like me either.