It’s twenty minutes after midnight.
I finally managed to get into the house, thanks to a brave and timely breaking and entering, performed by an underage neighbour (Sendai Anonymous, corrupting the young! Think of the children.), who was also trying to ascertain whether I was single and interested in underage male neighbours and their underage male friends (it was even more painful than you think), neither of which I was (still more pain followed then, unfortunately).
I was made to realise that I’m actually old enough for underage neighbours to think it would be cool if I could be their Ms Robinson, an utterly dreadful prospect.
Meanwhile, my flat mate is hiding away in some tiny village and not picking up her phone. Hopefully she will die of cholera, consumption and furuncles. May it be a long and painful death, with the rest of her life filled with suffering, bad weather, missed appointments and general wretchedness.
I can’t make myself to hate the neighbours and their friends (breaking and entering! One must appreciate a perfectly executed breaking and entering!), but the second-hand embarrassment I got from the entire debacle will keep me cringing for weeks every time I see them, and many times I won’t.
I hate life.
I hate humanity.
I hate everything.
It’s thirty minutes after midnight. I’ll have some tea and just go to sleep.
(Hopefully when I wake up everybody will be dead)
PS. I left the flat mate an active-aggressive note saying I hope she dies& suffers etc etc etc. I hope she appreciates it isn’t SOAKED IN FUCKING ARSENIC NOT YET.
PPS. Also, the neighbours think I’m:
1) French (“because of the accent”, OKAAAAAAY!)
2) My flat mate’s girlfriend WHICH FUCKING SERVES HER FUCKING RIGHT).