Because Skinship is Hot

at least, not on my karma.

teaching a bitch techniques on critiques and how to criticise isnt the most appropriate thing to do. teaching me how to ridicule someone is all the more worse. well, okay. i study how people use words, texts and techniques to ridicule  and criticise people. i cant help it i’m smart enough (or vindictive enough) to pick up the methods. could do on one tragedy now. fucking made me laugh out loud in the library. how much more tragic is that. (hell, im studying all sorts of tragedies. from dramatic realism to aristotelian tragedy, greek tragedy, and my personal favourite, shakespeare, the author of tragic comedies.)

but oh no no no. the last thing you should do is remind me of the one guy i hate most. one guy i have to do a mother fucking thesis paper on (which btw, has a deadline approaching fast), one guy whose works i get migraine worthy enough for a murderous intent, one where you simply boomz it out of context; where because of people like that, we need research papers to prove to our lecturers (and the world) our brain doesnt take sentences as it seems. yes those 3 words, together with ralph waldo emerson, are reason enough for an outburst, for me.

no, i lie. i love lit. i love how, over the mere few weeks, i have probably learnt more than what 19 years of life has taught me. it’s every bitch’s dream to know satire, parodies, puns, allegory, analogies and more. bitching 101, i swear. love all the insulting ridicule at a whole new level. though now i wish all the people walking to and fro behind me would drop dead. how many fucking times do you need to walk past an area to recognize that there are no free computers left.

and i’ll add on, because my interminent tests are over, so im finally given a breather.

“why dont you look at me when you talk to me.” “why you so cold” why, why, why. hate questions like that. dont ask me. if i dont feel like talking to you, i dont.