window to Mud

Sometimes, things are funny. And sometimes, they are not.

Maybe I’m just getting really old, but when what you’re mocking happens to be a giant part of someone’s life (with the exception of Scientology or Mormonism, because I have to lend myself to hypocrisy in one way or another), it’s time to fuck off.

I don’t know. Maybe I’m just taking these ‘jokes’ too seriously, but I’d like to think that if one day I get engaged, or get a job across the planet, or am able to buy a brand new house, or have any kind of excitement looming ahead of me (as opposed to now, when I have sweet fuck-all to look forward to other than school ending for another 8 months), that people who have not experienced such things will be happy for me, not mock me to their pals. This nonsense hasn’t happened to me yet, but if it does? POW! Watch out.

In other news, some immigrants catcalled me in their native tongue from a bus shelter Saturday night while I was walking home after work. While I’d normally ignore this kind of queerbaitery, instead, without looking back I loudly retorted “Grow up.” Whether they understood me or not, they decided to shut up. Being an asshole of sorts is really working out for me lately, and it might also work for you. I highly recommend it.

About Nikki

I've been writing since I was in kindergarten where I Crayola-markered an epic tale of a tiger and a balloon on a stack of lined papers folded into a booklet and stapled along the edge (carefully, and by my teacher). I love DIY, sewing, folksy music, animals and getting out to look at and listen to nature.
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