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Class wrapped up at 11, and currently am still in LIA, waiting for my dad to come get me in such a scorcher. (Yes, I feel terribly sorry for him.) The sweltering heat out here is unparalleled in the month, you can fry an egg or two on the pavements.
Whoever left the gates of hell open must be looking down and having their time laughing at us sweating like pigs.
Right now I’m sitting at the far end of a row of seats they installed in the porch, just perfectly facing the parking lot and 1entryway. Dashing off this post as I only have twenty minutes, more or less, ’til dad comes and ambecause my battery is dying.
From where I am, I can see vehicles bustling back and forth in the relatively small parking lot, mostly dropping off or picking up students. It is that time of the week when every motor vehicle owner gets theirs out of the garage and pour out into the streets, causing tremendous traffic congestion.
How’d it feel to spend the rest of your supposed to be quality family or me time being stuck in the streets and surrounded by either egotism and barbarism or people going mad over egotism and barbarism displayed by those who should be questioned about how they got their driving license? How? TF? You passed the test??
So. Anyway. About five seats before mine, sat a group of three rich girls who, I guess, come from the same school. I was on my phone like you’d mostly find me, reading some random article many people are buzzing about, when their loud, rambunctious laughter broke out. It didn’t take long before they started getting on my nerves.
Minutes passed, a boy came and join them. They started babbling and cackling and sometimes exploding in laughter. I sat still but glared hard their way, hoping that they’d catch the not-so-subtle gesture and tone down a little—which failed.
Thinking about the reason I prefer being here than in the clamorous lobby and hallways...
The new member suddenly piped up in a mocking tone, “why the heck are you wearing this [t-shirt]?” (or something along the line in Indonesian). His words prompted me to turn my head. They were aimed at this long-haired girl who wore a basic white tee with Disney’s Rapunzel print on it.
She retorted, almost inaudibly I couldn’t make out the words. I felt like mentally speaking to him, ‘but lil dude, that’s actually none of your fucking business!’ Then it dawned on me that this too was none of mine, so there it was, I started minding my own.
Only shortly after, I could hear someone in their group uttering the one word I have become unsurprisingly familiar with but still is not accustomed to giving a satisfying come back to, “fat ass.” In double-quick, I jerked my head up and looked at them—triggered.
It was addressed to the ‘Rapunzel’ girl again, and yeah, by no other than the same boy.
Just like when you hear someone insult your own little sister, you got worked up and ready to fight some assholes. I felt like standing up for her and strike up against her bully. I was like mad mad for a stranger who doesn’t even know their names. It filled me with rage.
‘Now you’re obsessed. Get off her back and shut the hell up, can’t you?’
Whether he meant to tease or not, still sounds hurtful and plain rude to me. It fueled my rage even more when I noticed I wasn’t the only one thinking so, ’cause the little boy seemed to have driven the girl up the wall as well. “So mean,” she told him off below her breath. If only you could see the anger and sadness painted across her face. She looked heartbroken, she looked hurt. She subsequently tried to shift the topic because what she said just gave an awkward pause among them, and asked her girl pals to go indoors (and leave the dick out in the cold of his dry joke to die). The boy fell silent in his place as they started walking away from him, looking on as deep regret began filling up his chest. At this point, my eyes were back on my phone screen and I pretended like I saw and heard nothing. He’d most likely spend the rest of his weekend feeling bad about having run his mouth carelessly and contemplating how he should apologize, or I assure you that’s how I want it all to play out deep down. *grins like a creepy anime villain* To the ‘Rapunzel’ girl I don’t even know but feel sorry for, I know that sucks having to bear the verbal abuse in public and by someone you know. I feel you, I’ve been through it too personally, I got fat-shamed a lot. And my wish is, for his ugly words not to ruin your bright day and your luck and happiness today will outshine your sadness. His sorry-ass can choke, okay? No, we’re better than him, so we’re not gonna speak ill about him and bear revenge, right? Have a good day, sweetie! See, you can say you were joking, but that might still hurt the person’s feelings nevertheless.
Sometimes it’s not because someone is ‘ill-humored’ or a ‘cry-baby’ (which sounds perfectly ridiculous for what rights do you have to invalidate how other people feel?). You think you can go round being rude and intentionally hurting people, then get away with it without saying sorry.
The ranting needs to stop, as this is a sunny Saturday and all we need is a fun, well-spent weekend instead of a post filled with sound and fury. In summary, moral of today’s story is to say only nice words or nothing at all (unless the person whom you talked to was being a dick first, that’s a special case ofc). It gets tragic how it’s freaking 2015 and we still use problematic words in a light fashion.
