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!






Just some depressing yet hopeful thoughts.

I don’t usually let myself think too much about this. Because thinking gets me in one of my moods. And me getting in one of my moods is most definitely not a good thing. I mean, they don’t last very long, but when they do, it’s like someone squeezing my heart with unrelenting fists.

I am a twenty-one year old girl (I still can’t think of myself as a woman). I’ve never been in a relationship before, never kissed a boy (or a girl) and all that shebang. I know I’m pretty (sort of), smart (sort of) and I’m most definitely not a prude (maybe?). So why is that I feel… unwanted? The only guys who have shown any sort of interest in me are total creeps, I kid you not. They even had slight stalker tendencies.

In my logical mind I know that I’m a strong person. I KNOW I can live without a partner. I KNOW I am smart enough and skilled enough to make my own money and build my own life. But all these logical thoughts go to the trashcan when one of my moods take over. A strange pressure settles over my chest, somehow strong enough to squeeze tears out of my eyes. Even though I don’t need this kind of companionship, my heart wants it.

Sometimes I find myself looking up into the dark, unending night sky. I think about how massive the world is. 7 billion people. 7,000,000,000 people. That’s a LOT of zeros. Surely there is 1 person out there for me. Right? I wish someone would just tell me.

Yes, I’m just 21. Yes, I have so many decades of my life to look forward to. My rational mind knows all that. But my stupid, irrational mind always worries. How long do I have to keep suffering through these suffocating moods?

I love happy ending. When it comes to books and movies, I stay as far as possible from the ones which have tragic ends. Who the hell wants to read a book till the last page only to find out that someone you start caring about just dies? I knowsome people are really really into this sad, crappy endings. I’m most definitely not one of them. I’d much rather read about people riding off into the sunset on unicorns.

I have friends who are in long-term relationships, not so long-term relationships, relationships that last only the night and impossible relationships that they know for certain is not going anywhere. I honestly don’t feel jealous when they talk about their boyfriends/girlfriends/husbands/wives. In fact, I love hearing all about it. It’s only when one of moods show up, I yearn for that. For that connection that people feel. I fear that I will never feel that. This fear chokes me. I sincerely hope it is an irrational one.

I believe in ‘the one’-I’m a hopeless romantic. So how do I find ‘the one’? Do I have to put myself out there, crossing people out of a list until I find him? Or should I hope to just stumble upon him? In my daydreams, I’d meet him and immediately know. Meet him and know for sure that he is the one whom I want to grow old with. Is that how it works? Or am I being a stupid, naive girl talking about something I have zero knowledge and experience about? So many questions, but no sure answers. So many questions that no one can possibly give answers to.