The girl who killed ironman is a wuss
I hate my guy friends. Really I do.
Or maybe I hate the fact that they act nothing like other people’s guy friends act like. They don’t carry my stuff, they don’t help me with my weaving, they never let me borrow their usb, they do not drive me anywhere, they do not pay for me, they do not get me a birthday present (with the exception of Haris Hanif, and Ali Hakeem), they do not help me in any assignment whatsoever, and they will not embarrass themselves on stage to make my presentation successful. Ulta mujh se assignments karwate hain, ullu ke pathey.…
What’s worse is I can’t look to them for any moral support either. I don’t remember any of them standing up for me during the hell that was my first year. I can’t imagine any of them doing anything but make fun of me even now. Screw up their mouth and twist their tongues; speak like they have marbles stuck on their teeth. Her accent is a drama like all the rest of her. And we don’t speak her language anyway. If I can’t go to any of them for help, support or even simple understanding, why call them friends?
Maybe friends are more than people you enjoy hanging out with. It’s about actually believing someone’s got your back. Sigh…one of my ‘friends’ thinks I sabotaged his standing with a girl he liked. As if that’s something I would do. As if.
As if it’s easy to tell him that he never had a chance. As if he’ll ever believe it.
As if it’s not just simpler to blame me.
I need a support system…even bitchy feminists need crutches once in a while.
I will sooo regret putting this online, later. But right now I just need to vent.