about a half hour ago.
I ended up staying much later talking to my professor (who happens to be the shit).
So, on the slightly touchy subject of DisasterCrush2...that's the one I met 2 weeks ago.
Not only am I totally & completely over this fool, I'm beginning to strongly dislike him.
I say "strongly dislike" because I truly don't "hate" anyone.
For whatever reason, this dude just has something against me.
Normally I'd ignorantly chalk it up to being a race issue but remember, this is the same guy who is obsessed with blues, jazz & the Civil Rights Movement.
So what's the problem?
I'm sure everyone has heard some version of the phrase: "No matter who you are, there's always going to be people who just don't like you".
I think that's pretty applicable.
He let my friend (yes, the married one) borrow a book & she asked him if I could borrow it next.
He said yes, but the look on this dude's face was as if my friend asked him if she could fuck him with a knife.
The book is sitting on my dresser & it will stay there until I have my next class, so I can give it back to him.
That shit is tainted with bad intentions.
I'm very much looking forward to writing a lovely poem about him & reading it in class next time.
If he can tell it's about him, even better.
You can't make people feel insecure about themselves for no good reason.
If you're going to dislike me, at least tell me why.
I'm not going to care but at least I'll know what your problem is...
other than cowardice.
Anyway, I'm getting off track as usual.
I got a shitty sandwich at Subway & ended up throwing it out after a few bites.
This year is really testing me & although I may seem like I'm often losing my mind, compared to the way I handled shit a few years ago, I'm holding up like a steel bridge now.
My professor is another person who never has anything negative to say about my writing.
Maybe it's because I always end up going last & everyone wants to get the fuck out of there but, like I said, tonight I stayed past midnight & not the smallest amount of shit was talked about my pieces.
He told me I have a creative sense of humor.
I think strange shit is always happening to me & after I document it, it becomes funny.
Kind of like this site.
My whole life seems like one big hilarious fail, on here. Especially when it comes to boys.
However, with an entry like "We Need to Talk: Part 1", I cried my eyes out the night before I wrote that...like, locked myself in my room & cried until I couldn't breathe.
Those "box office bombs" caused some of the worst pain I've ever felt in my life & my bruises from it are still healing.
After I posted it, though, I still crack up reading over it.
How fucked up can one day be?
Though I never told you exactly what happend with DisasterCrush1, it was bad news.
Real bad news.
As I've said before, this site is therapeutic to me & it helps me see how funny the shittiest parts of life can really be.
Sorry, rambling again.
It's 1:35, now. I should probably hit the sack...or at least stop trying to make any sense.
The DisasterCrush2 poem will be written & read.
I'm gonna go pass the fuck out.
&, hopefully, I'll be able to continue seeing the humor in all of my bad days.