The next time someone points out the self-inflicted scars on my arms, and I’m going to act all surprised and say, “Holy shit! You’re right! Where did those come from? I’ve never seen them before?”
Do you point out when someone has a visible pimple or mole? Do I have to remind you that it’s fucking rude to blatantly point out differences in someone? I can forgive you if you’re five years old and at the, “are you pregnant or just really fat” stage where you ask rude things because you don’t know any better, but FUCK, the amount of teenagers and adults who think it is always appropriate to tell me that my arms are scarred, what the fuck is wrong with you?
I was okay wearing short-sleeved tops until people like YOU broke down my confidence and now I am terrified to wear singlets. But gee, it’s only my self-confidence, obviously your intrusive curiosity is sooo much more important!
“You Didn’t Thank Me For Punching You in the Face,” by Queen of the Couch.
home-of-amazons found the article for me! The blog entry is blunt and to the point.
^THIS quote. So much of it.
I went for a run today! :D But excuse me while I have a wee rant.
While I was running, I could see a group of tweenagers a few metres ahead of me, walking in a line and completely blocking the footpath. As I ran, I logically assumed that they would part so I could get through. BUT NO. FUCKING NO. I got ALL the way up to them, and they still hadn’t moved. So I skidded to a halt right in front of them, and EVEN THEN they barely parted an inch. So I shoved my way between them and said, “Oh come on, guys,” in a pissed off tone, and kept running. I had my iPod in so I couldn’t hear their inevitable bitchy/shocked comments. But…. FFUUUUUUCCCCKCKKKKKKKKKKing HELL. What happened to this crazy little notion called…what was it? Oh yeah, COMMON. COURTESY.
As if running isn’t hard enough without some little shits making it even harder. Fuck.