There are some hits that you will take because you probably asked for it. There are some hits, however, that come your way because the universe is pissed off with you and your happy place and decides to put a stop the simple pleasures of your life - I’m having one of those days.
It’s amazing to me the circularity of some things. Why people won’t let go of you because three or more years ago you were connected to them and since you’ve moved on and have turned into a healthier, less-neurotic self, it’s not cool any more that you’re no longer connected to each other. Why? Seriously, why? Is it not enough that I’m happy without you? Do I have to struggle with a nasty thought and then think about how happy I am? Do I need to validate my everyday happiness by comparing it to the mindfuck you were? Do I?
One of the most appalling things about the series of random events that have unfolded since yesterday afternoon is one fact – men, the attention-seeking ones, are trash talkers to the very extreme. I mean, hello! If you’re not getting any that don’t mean you make up a nice little story with me as the protagonist you chooth piece! Stop lying about things that never happened. Just stop.
When more and more shit like this is unearthed, the bigger my reasons are for not liking men. Yes, I was consensually involved with a few at some point in time, but if they didn’t act like trashbags post the event, I’d be less angry about this. Act like complete douches after, why don’t you? Give me reason to inventively tell you to fuck the hell off of this planet. Being classy, being adult, being mature was never part of the agenda. I guess that’s precisely why a lot of women indulge in man-bashing that almost always ends with – “what the fiuck was I thinking?”
I think, I wasn’t thinking.
On a more happy note – post 150 approaches – and with it the dilemma of how to make it memorable. I made 100 a very interesting subject. How do I usher 150?