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I write verbose posts about polyamory, love, lust, and self-discovery on my other blog Victoria's Imaginarium.

Friday, November 25, 2011

Spilled A Cup of Coffee

not spilled. DROPPED.

I don't really want to write two posts in one day but my mood is fucking screwed so I have to or else you will find my corpse in Lake Mandota.

A lot of unpleasant things happened in a row. I attracted them into my life. Awesome?

I have no idea how it happened--I was holding this fucking evil cup of starbucks coffee, about to put it on my table, and then it slipped from my hand.

My pens which scattered everywhere on the table, my laptop keyboard, my textbook, my notes, my pencil box, two packs of unused sticky notes, the wall, the table, the floor, the chair, my pants, my shirt. Sticky and wet. FUCK.

So when everybody else is on Black Friday Sale spree, having fun, I'm here in my room, alone, cleaning up all the mess I have created, alone, sulking, nobody care, no help from nobody, forever alone, me, sickening smell, coffee stain, sticky, wet, fuck, my lovely cute towel is soaking the spilled coffee, go die, I should go die.

I know it's just a cup of coffee.


I really feel like dying.

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