Why do some people think that telling almost-strangers things like “YOU LOOK FAT!” is acceptable? Because it’s NOT!

Hell, I don’t even tell my friends that unless they ask for my honest opinion. Walking down the East Wing in heavy, ultra-high heels is torturous enough without hearing that fat comment from some random woman I barely knew who probably forgot the circumference of her own waistline (the nerve). I mean, I could have been a struggling anorexic/bulimic who’d jump off the building after hearing anything related to fat, chubby, and obese! But noooooo, she didn’t care. She just went on and said it with a self-satisfied smirk I would’ve loved to gently scrape off her face with my wooden clog.

Unwanted comments are even worse than unsolicited advice. They come so fast you don’t even have time to stop the speaker before he or she says anything soul-damaging and have the irritating power to terminate one’s cheeriness.

Ignore me. I’m in a foul mood.


I miss Kuchi like crazy. Of course, I always do. But there are days when it’s all right, and I could accept the situation and feel all calm and pragmatic. But there are days like this when I miss everything about him terribly, even the messy room that stayed messy in spite of my hints about the existence of hampers.

And nights when I can’t sleep because of a small, cold feeling chewing on my pancreas.

God, please… the next time you swing a relationship my way (one that’s more wondermous than the last 2, of course, in spite of the past wondermous-ness of them both), can you please help us make it last?


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