Today was just like any other day.
I’m still awake, like always.
Told my mum that I’ll be studying but I’m just here killing time and, with no pun intended, slowly killing myself too.
Well, earlier on;
Woke up late, like always.
I didn’t really wanna go to my caaching, and my mom had mentioned the day before on how she wanted to go to the local mall’s 99 store for cheap shopping. Seeing my chance, I hoped in with her; though she was upset and annoyed with me for skipping my classes. I don’t like going to public places because they make me so conscious of my flesh, my appearance and my damned existence. All will go well, I told myself. I had shampooed today and my hair weren’t curlish but rather kinda flat. Fortunately they retained their fluffiness and I felt good while walking in the mall.
The first thing I was aware about was my height. It’s high time everyone here admits that 5’7 is way below average for the modern generation. I saw a lot of girls who were towering me. Though, as they say, time heals all. I’m no longer so hyper aware about my height. It feels bad because it kinda eliminates me from being a man, and ever being able to successfully court some woman but you know what, anans? It’s completely fine. I have nothing to prove to anyone. If that’s what nature intended for me, so be it.
My mum and I proceeded to eat golgappe/panipuris, as the very first thing for the day. I didn’t like them for they lacked taste. They weren’t bland or unhygienic but missed the rawness (istg I’m just making words up) that a lot of golgappe stalls have. While at it, I noticed my surroundings and began to take a look at people around us. A lot of couples I saw had a very similar pattern. Either it was a tall ugly guy with a good girl or a mid guy with a mid girl. Quite blackpilling for your average Joe but I didn’t care. Why would i? I’ve grown calloused to all these clown spectacles. What difference would it even make if I managed to court some hot girl? Even when I was in relationships, I was never happy and always wanted more. Why would it be different if I, somehow, got with a good maiden?
After our golgappe spree, it was the usual commotion, my mum bought all these commodities which were nothing but the mark of human consumerism and the horrors of capitalism in the Indian society. She got in a fight over some bag but I didn’t intervene much and she didn’t seem happy about it. It’s not much of a big deal, said I, to her. Why give that guy anymore attention inside your head? Just move on, I replied. Then she proceeded to this huge shopping complex, and I being with her had to go to the women’s section. While there my eyes were met with this girl, she looked at me for a while and so did I. Could it be that she was interested? Could it be she found me somewhat attractive? Maybe. It didn’t matter.
Though while there, I did look myself into the mirror. A good face, good eyelashes, my hair were fluffy. All that i lacked was stature. Though it doesn’t matter, I convinced myself. Even if I were to be taller, I would still be self-contemptuous.
It was at this point I didn’t know what hit over me but I started fantasising about Italy, and Sicily to be more particular. I love the Mediterranean, man. It’s like this spiritual home. I don’t know where this love even came from. I love the sun, wine, naked women, old music, greenery and the ocean. Maybe it was only natural for me to pick up this love for the Med. I started whining about my lust for Sicily to my mum, who half-listened. Then I started talking about Italian food, only to mention pizza. If that’s the case, said my mum, let’s go eat some. And so we did. We went to domino’s, where the service was slow and gay. And i bumped into this fag whom I knew, but he didn’t. This fag was a chadjeet, as you would say. I was seeing him after a longtime. Knew him from school days, though never talked to him.
Saw that he was slightly balding, but still vital.
Then we packed up,
diary posting of a nobody
Anonymous
JK
IMG_2261.png
Today was just like any other day.
I’m still awake, like always.
Told my mum that I’ll be studying but I’m just here killing time and, with no pun intended, slowly killing myself too.
Well, earlier on;
Woke up late, like always.
I didn’t really wanna go to my caaching, and my mom had mentioned the day before on how she wanted to go to the local mall’s 99 store for cheap shopping. Seeing my chance, I hoped in with her; though she was upset and annoyed with me for skipping my classes. I don’t like going to public places because they make me so conscious of my flesh, my appearance and my damned existence. All will go well, I told myself. I had shampooed today and my hair weren’t curlish but rather kinda flat. Fortunately they retained their fluffiness and I felt good while walking in the mall.
The first thing I was aware about was my height. It’s high time everyone here admits that 5’7 is way below average for the modern generation. I saw a lot of girls who were towering me. Though, as they say, time heals all. I’m no longer so hyper aware about my height. It feels bad because it kinda eliminates me from being a man, and ever being able to successfully court some woman but you know what, anans? It’s completely fine. I have nothing to prove to anyone. If that’s what nature intended for me, so be it.
My mum and I proceeded to eat golgappe/panipuris, as the very first thing for the day. I didn’t like them for they lacked taste. They weren’t bland or unhygienic but missed the rawness (istg I’m just making words up) that a lot of golgappe stalls have. While at it, I noticed my surroundings and began to take a look at people around us. A lot of couples I saw had a very similar pattern. Either it was a tall ugly guy with a good girl or a mid guy with a mid girl. Quite blackpilling for your average Joe but I didn’t care. Why would i? I’ve grown calloused to all these clown spectacles. What difference would it even make if I managed to court some hot girl? Even when I was in relationships, I was never happy and always wanted more. Why would it be different if I, somehow, got with a good maiden?
After our golgappe spree, it was the usual commotion, my mum bought all these commodities which were nothing but the mark of human consumerism and the horrors of capitalism in the Indian society. She got in a fight over some bag but I didn’t intervene much and she didn’t seem happy about it. It’s not much of a big deal, said I, to her. Why give that guy anymore attention inside your head? Just move on, I replied. Then she proceeded to this huge shopping complex, and I being with her had to go to the women’s section. While there my eyes were met with this girl, she looked at me for a while and so did I. Could it be that she was interested? Could it be she found me somewhat attractive? Maybe. It didn’t matter.
Though while there, I did look myself into the mirror. A good face, good eyelashes, my hair were fluffy. All that i lacked was stature. Though it doesn’t matter, I convinced myself. Even if I were to be taller, I would still be self-contemptuous.
It was at this point I didn’t know what hit over me but I started fantasising about Italy, and Sicily to be more particular. I love the Mediterranean, man. It’s like this spiritual home. I don’t know where this love even came from. I love the sun, wine, naked women, old music, greenery and the ocean. Maybe it was only natural for me to pick up this love for the Med. I started whining about my lust for Sicily to my mum, who half-listened. Then I started talking about Italian food, only to mention pizza. If that’s the case, said my mum, let’s go eat some. And so we did. We went to domino’s, where the service was slow and gay. And i bumped into this fag whom I knew, but he didn’t. This fag was a chadjeet, as you would say. I was seeing him after a longtime. Knew him from school days, though never talked to him.
Saw that he was slightly balding, but still vital.
Then we packed up,
