FML part 1

Why do we never use an image of us crying as a profile picture in Facebook or whatever?

I talked to one of my most special friends two days ago, and of all she said to me there was one bit that lingered in my ears like a voiceless echo, like that last taste of the strongest wine you've ever laid your tonsils in: if you feel it, then write about it.
Cheeseless or not I am sad, and sad am I; the saddest I've been in my whole life perhaps...

Hegel said that one must act (creatively so) in order to see what one is made of, hence our doings; marked as footprints on this earth, reflect like fuming mirrors the very essence of our beings. Our spirit hints its existence filtering itself through our actions, and printing them into organic ways of life for all eternity (if one is lucky). That is why I am in art school, even though I forget this from time to time.
On that note; I shall thus write about the things that make me want to stop living in this God forsaken city... then I shall read my writings and try to understand the whyness of the why I feel this way. And above all, sharing is important; because one can also be crazy and therefore ask 5 people the time before deciding it's 42 past 8.

Anywhoo...
I hate talking to people on the street, it's like I want to be a part of everything that goes on about but playing the part of the "live camera". I feel if I intervene with the characters then I spoil the moment, and everything turns too real to handle. Ironically I'm socially retarded (yes, I talk a lot and have loads of friends in my social networks, but I'm still a loser when it comes to communicating in spoken language).
This morning I did my daily routines, mantras and all and suddenly, when I was trudging down the stairs (thing which I do NOT do, because I use the elevator), after greeting the building keeper (having left a milk carton for the school girls in 4B to use for their annual carton-recollection contest) I realised I needed some freakin' change to get on the freakin' bus! (halt! as some of you might remember, I am car-less for another week due to an unfortunate encounter with a city road beast, hence all the public transportation usage).

You see, these new buses that drive along the Perférico highway charge 4.50 pesos. But the drivers don't handle the money, so if you go there and insert a 5 peso coin in the green slot, and then expect to get some change back they'll sarcastically, I mean "politely" point out to the shiny sign above your head that reads "don't talk to the driver". I mean WHAT IS THIS? ANIMAL FARM ON WHEELS? wtf. So anyways, I decided to buy us a lolly pop to get some change, right? So I got in the store that's nearest to my building and said hello and stuff, trying to mind my own business and then I bought one of those small milk cartons that make you shit easier (with this cold weather, its hard enough as it is). Go All Bran! I paid with a large bill and was given two smaller ones and ONE PESO.
I was gutted, so asked if I could get smaller and physical bits of that abstract representation of how MUCH we are worth in this life AKA "money" (I fucking hate it) and the dude behind the counter smiled and said "no can do, missy" with that face that reads "fuck off, I'm not gonna help you because you're a woman and look smaller and dumber than you really are". So I played it cool and said, "oh, then I want a lollypop" and handed him a 20 peso bill.

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That was it, he was furious. He snapped at me with a "oh no you didn't" sort of attitude and told me to buzz off, that if I wanted the freakin' lollipop then I could have it and then pay for it later. I tried to explain I needed change for the bus ride, but he just wandered off to someplace behind the coke fridge, smothering hate thoughts into amorphous mumblings.

I felt bad, I felt terrible; like if it was all my fault, I'm oh so insensitive for other people's interests. I always feel like shit when other people treat me so. And all I'm trying to do is get over with the stuff that needs to be done in order to get to school and back alive. It would seem simple enough as, but not in my world it isn't.

I counted my change, coin by coin this time as I walked to the bus stop, only to realise I DID have enough money to get on the COPESA... all that jazz for less than no cigar. I added STUPID to the number of thoughts wandering in my mind and hopped on the green and yellow bastard that takes me to Tepepan.

And to think I didn't even NEED that fucking milk carton, I had already packed my lunch and all. It's just that those bus drivers treat civilians like shit on toast, and it just doesn't feel right giving them that extra $.50 if they're gonna be all rude and mean... it ain't just.

Change is everything when you're a student. Like that clever sign on that clever movie that that clever hobo was carrying that said "keep your money, I want CHANGE". Holy smokes!

Then I got off where I was supposed to, after being stared at for being a girl who happens to be just an extra white to be using public transportation... who ever said we're all the same, I used to think that way...
I walked on and suddenly another blood rush to my brain: I needed YET MORE change to get on the second bus that takes me to school. Shit on a bucket! So I grabbed some more strength and decided to take my chances on this guy who was selling cookies and peanuts and grabbing chips with his probably unwashed hands and stuffing them into little plastic bags to be sold after. My OCD triggered, but I approached and said "Hey there, good morning. One question; could I have two 10 peso coins if I gave you this 20 peso bill?".
Funny enough he said "huh?" so I repeated the question, word by word. He smiled and said "dear, if you give me that bill then I'll have to give you TWO 20 peso coins, not one hahahahaha" and he continued to laugh while I apologised for something I had not said and walked on with TWO coins of that value I just wrote about.

A guy poked me in the eye on the way out of that second bus, and I yelled "STUPID" without being able to control myself... gosh. The funny thing is that when I complain about it at school, my friends tell me off with stuff like "it is what it is, if you don't realise it then that's YOUR problem".

I love this freaking city... makes me want to cry until I die, and then maybe take my own picture and post it on FB, not.