thoughts

My Bad.

Here’s a list of lol-worthy things I’ve been 100% wrong about:

  1. Justin Bieber is the most amazing human being in the planet and I’d someday be his ever-loving wife. (Yup, I was one of them JB groupies)
  2. I could never be attracted to a younger guy. (Damn you, Shawn Mendes)
  3. I’d one day somehow lose my natural talent of procrastination and become one of those people who start working on assignments weeks before deadline. (Just so you know, I have three assignments due tomorrow. Two of those have a minimum requirement of 40 pages. I’ve done 10 pages for one of them. Goodbye sleep.)
  4. Throwing up is better than having a fever. (Thank you, Old Monk, for this valuable lesson.)
  5. Putting 682 kilometres between myself and my lovely place of origin would stop people from talking shit about me.

As you probably guessed, I’m here to rant about the fourth lol-worthy item on this list.

When I was in 10th grade, my fellow school mates said I let boys suck my boobs. And that I gave out blow-jobs like candy on Halloween. And that I, very obviously, was the school slut. The best part? I’ve never even had a boyfriend or kissed a guy then. (That’s still applicable now) The surprising thing is that I did not hear these vile rumours until the last year of high school. I do not know how these bloody fucking shitty rumours started, but it hit me so hard. I cried for three days straight. What upset me more that the rumours itself was the fact that the people whom I thought were my closest friends did not even think to tell me that people were shit talking behind my back.

Fast forward 4 years. I’ve moved a long way away from home. I’ve cut almost all contact with my school ‘friends’. I’ve (understandably, I think) acquired slight trust issues. And what do I get for my troubles? A Facebook message from a ‘friend’ asking me if I was doing a certain someone. He had the audacity to start the message with “Tell me it’s not true, I heard…”

Now, if I were a different kind of person, I would be brave enough to type and post a long, bitter, confronting Facebook status. Hell, I might even share this blog post on my timeline. But that is not who I am. I wish I were that girl, but I am not. I’m a coward. I’m probably going to joke back and ask him to introduce me to the guy he was talking about.

The whole point of this rant is to get the anger out of my system. And I think it’s working. I hate being such a non-confrontal (I’m not sure if that’s even a word) person. I generally love myself, but this is one of the things I dislike about my beautiful self. Maybe I’ll even write a ‘Things I hate about myself’ post one day. And I’m sure the fact that I can’t tell a joke with a straight face will be featured on that list.

So yeah, my very pointless rant is done here. I love that I wasted at least 2 minutes of your precious time, my darling reader 🙂 Toodles for now!

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