Tag Archives: shit

Shittiest day of the week so far

This is my first time experiencing the so called ‘monday of shitdom’. Like, you know, when people overexaggerate how monday is the worst day of the week with all the bad things happening and friday is the god of all week days.

So far I’ve woken up with an earth shattering toothache w/that incapacitated me from doing anything productive for academics. The right side of my face is probably swollen up right now.

So yeah, coupled with my shitty financial burden and ultra immature bum aunt and my over dramatic grandmother stressing out my mom, I have to be at school. Without decent socks.

And here I am, cutting classes like a fugitive.

You know what the fucking lady guard does? Reprimand me (and only me despite the other students in the same predicament) about my rubber-made black shoes, saying it’s supposed to be leather. Fucking bitch I’ve been wearing this shit since last semester. She was in a bad mood and taking it out on people- which the guards here are prone to do at uni. Anyway, I didn’t want to get confrontational since I had a toothache and I might end up stabbing her with a ballpoint pen so I just gave her my ID (which will now make it twice as hard to get in and out of school till Wednesday when I can claim it- fucking surprise, I don’t even have classes on wed) and she handed me the piece of reprimand paper.

So then I bought my book for busscon. and being a few minutes early for my 1pm class, I went to the bathroom to try and salvage my downtrodden appearance- but of course I forgot my fucking essentials. Then I also remember that I forgot my heavyass book for 1st period like fuck (which I bought last time and my prof was supposed to check last time). Oh, there goes the bell.

I’ll probably be fucking late for typing this up on my droid.

Ugh, toothache starting to act up again despite the painkillers. Fuck me.

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It makes me uncomfortable.

There. There, I fucking said it.


I was raised in a family where hugs only happen once or twice a year when I was five then pretty much none when I passed twelve. (Now before you assume I had a shitty childhood, it was awesome actually. I didn’t like touching, even back then.)

I’ve had few very close friends in my short seventeen years of life, none of whom are inclined to hair-fondling, shoulder-to-head-leaning, hand-holding, body-hugging, cheek-kissing, and other forms of casual physical contact.

Is this me over thinking things again? Yes, yes it is. I tend to do that a lot. It’s a sick habit that I sometimes love and sometimes want to stab the shit out of. Because really, who puts too much thought into the simple act of linking fingers between same-sex platonic friends, enough to write a blog post about it? Who the fuck even freezes at the slightest arm-over-your-shoulders-in-a-loose-friendly-way action?

Me, that’s who.

I know that shit about accepting oneself and all, plus the mantra that it’s okay to be different, but dear gods I just can’t get over the fact that some people can do this without giving it a second thought while a million pointless buzzfeeds run through my mind.

So now I’m trying to figure out why. I need to give myself a leeway and purge this out of my head.

Plausible Reasons Why I am Uncomfortable With Casual Skinship

 1. I over think things.

Like I said, I pay too much attention to irrelevant details. It’s another one of those instances where I know I’m not supposed to analyze too much but I still end up doing so, which in turn gives way to more resentful thinking. I don’t want to offend anyone, I don’t want anyone to think I’m weird either.

2. I have never been in any honest to goodness romantic relationship.

Maybe people get used to this kind of thing after frolicking in the romance department with someone. I don’t know. Is it supposed to help? Will the consciousness for physical interaction lessen when you do it frequently?

I have no answers.

3. I’m a maniac.

I’m well known in high school for my less-than-innocent musings (read: I am well known for being a pervert, *in spirit*). Though it’s a source of a lot of laughs for everyone (myself included) when I twist things into a comical-sexual context, being an auto-perv-filter has its disadvantages. Not only do I over think things, I see them in a perverse light too.

I’m like, ‘Shit I know I’m not supposed to be thinking this but I am oh god no brain don’t go there BAD BRAIN, BAD! Go back to your corner.’ (This is what’s going on inside while I am freezing rigid and expressionless.)

Like, I don’t even like him/her that way or ever seen him/her that way but SURPRISE INNER BRAIN THEATER FLASH!

It sucks.


Now I’ve gotten that out of the way, I hope I can move on from this topic and not fucking trip or break out into a messy sweat whenever I experience such. I might add a few others when they crop up again.

Let me clear this up: I appreciate the act itself. I appreciate the idea that you’re comfortable enough to do this with me. I appreciate that, without even thinking about it that much, you reflexively reach out for my hand or sling your arm around mine.  I just don’t know what to think or how to stop thinking about it too much.  Yeah well, now I type this out to think why I think about it an awful lot. [THINKCEPTION] (I am very confused right now.)

Hopefully no one is offended. Or creeped out.

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