15.4 - The Right Timing

It's been a long time since I've actually been in love. I mean, I had the occasional fling from time to time but it was all fun and games. 

Until I met you. 

We met in such an unorthodox and 2016 type of way. 

No bumping into each other and dropping my books. 

No dropping my bracelet and you running after me to return it. 

No being rivals first and slowly falling for each other. 

We were moving too fast and maybe that's what drifted us apart. It felt like I'd been in a 4-year-relationship with you yet we've only known each other for a month. 

I was really starting to fall for you. Everyone knows how difficult I get when it comes to me and dating. I don't wanna give it my all when I know I'm gonna drop him in a week or 2. 

I'm not the relationship type. I don't do cuddles and meeting the parents. I don't want to be tied down. I hate commitment. 

But for you I wanted to give all that up. 

I wanted to meet your family. I wanted to just lay in bed and listen to your heartbeat for hours. I wanted to fall asleep in the passenger seat of your car on our way to the arcade hall. I wanted to walk hand in hand on the beach while the sun is setting. I wanted to trace the birthmarks on your face all the way down to your chest. I wanted to kiss the sensitive spot in your neck because I know you'd start giggling like a 5 year old. I wanted to fight with you over who gets to sleep on the left side of my bed.

I wanted to wake up to a blue dog you'd won for me at an amusement park. 

I wanted it all.  

Maybe I wanted too much. 

I should've seen it coming when our conversations started to feel a bit tenser. We talked about it and you told me that I was overthinking and that nothing had changed. 

That was one of the things I liked about us. We never hid anything from each other. You could sense if something was wrong by the way I spoke. You immediately picked up every sign I didn't even know I was giving you. We could talk about everything. I shared more with you than I shared with my best friend. 

But now we're here, one week later. 

You don't have time. 

You don't know anymore. 

You don't wanna hurt me. 

You don't wanna lead me on. 

You're asking me if I still want this. 

Do I?

Squirrels.

Ranting Time. Again. 

My friends are probably getting tired of listening to my bullshit so here we are again. Another day, another rant session. 

These past 2 weeks have been a whirlwind of emotions. From feeling depressed to happy to mad. Why? Because there's a new guy in my life (yes, again). 

For once, let's just skip the whole back story because that shit always gets me in trouble. Let's go straight to the ranting. 

*breathes in*

WHY IS IT THAT EVERY FUCKING GUY I TALK TO ENDS UP BEING A FUCKBOY LIKE I HAD HOPE FOR THIS DUDE HE SEEMED NICE AND HOLY AND DOWN TO EARTH BUT NO WRONG AGAIN LIKE IBLIS LEPAS DUDE I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF YOUR MEDDLING SHIT. 

Okay, now to the real rant. 

In the past week I've been thinking to myself, "Shit, maybe I should've kissed or even fucked this dude, maybe then, things would have turned out differently."

Listen up ladies, THAT'S NOT A THOUGHT ANY WOMAN SHOULD EVER HAVE. 

Is that smash and dash worth that text back?

Do you really need to fuck a dude to get that text back? 

Girl, if that's what you're thinking, let that man goooo. 

You deserve better than a guy who thinks "Netflix & Chill" is a date. Just sayin'. 

We all know I love the chase but this dude took it to the next level. 

This was supposed to be a two person's game, not a one woman's fight. 

So, I'm going to let this fuckboy go (shit gone be hard, I'm a weak girl if it comes to him) and focus on my studies for once ( lol who am I kidding, been saying that for the past 5 years). 

Okay, rant over. I'll prolly be back tomorrow telling y'all how I forgive him and how he's so sweet and all. 

#fixmyweaknessJesus

bye. 

Diaphilia 1.1

Kentara POV

"Shit I'm late again."

I started running towards the elevator of my apartment, which was not easy for me, lemme tell you that. 

Oh wait! I forgot to introduce myself. 

My name is Kentara Butter.

Ironic, since butter fucked my life up. 

Butter cookies, butter bread, butter milk, I love it all. 

Maybe I loved it a little bit too much, since, you know, I have diabetes. 

Okay, enough about me, let's go back to the story. 

As I was running for the elevator I could feel all my fat jiggle like they never did before. 

You may be questioning, "why doesn't she just walk and take the next elevator?".

You see, my apartment is quite old. One elevator trip takes about 5 minutes and it's just a three-story building. 

"Why don't you take the stairs?"

Honey, these diabetes legs ain't made for walking. 

Finally after what felt like years of running I reached my beloved elevator, only to see it close it's doors to go down like my salary if I'm late for work again. 

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, what am I going to do?!"

I could feel it's stare burning the back of my head but I just couldn't do it. I shivered from the thoughts of actually doing "it". 

"But I don't really have anothere choic- SNAP OUT OF IT KENTARA DO NOT DO IT." 

I turned around, looking it dead in the eyes. 

"Stairway"

Just imagining myself taking the stairs sent chills down my spine. 

"Oh fuck it, I need to save my job. This is karma, Kentara. Your fatass shouldn't have chosen the 3rd floor as your home."

Sometimes I really hate this lil' bitch called 'Conscience'. 

I opened the door of the stairway and looked at all the steps I would have to take. 

I wanted to take it slow but I was already running late and couldn't afford another salary reduction (them red velvet cakes ain't paying themselves). So I had to do it, something I haven't done in over my 20 years of life. 

I had to run. 

"There we go... HANA DUL SET FIGHTING!"

It felt like I was flying. I went all Usain Bolt on them stairs. Skipping steps from left to right. 

Which I really shouldn't have done. 

What the fuck was I thinking, skipping steps. I knew gravity didn't like my fatass but damn. While trying to be the next Pegasus I tripped over a snicker bar that fell out of my pocket. 

I legit rolled down the fucking stairs and I didn't even stop myself to get up and continue life like any sane person would have done, I just kept rolling. 

Well, actually it was a pretty fast way to get to down. 

Rolling down the stairs, giving zero fucks, I caught a glimpse of something. 

Rather someone. 

"Goddamn that man is fine as fuc-HOLY SHIT I'M ABOUT TO HIT HIM WITH MY WHALE ASS STOP ROLLING KENTARA."

I tried to dodge him by pulling a mario kart and making a sharp turn. 

Shouldn't have done that either. 

It resulted in me banging my head in to the wall and still hitting the hot dude with my legs. 

We both tumbled down the stairs until we hit the floor with a loud thud.

And I guess this is where the cliché part comes.

He fell right on top of me. 

"Well that was unexpecte-uhm hello, are you okay, omg are you dying? HELLO?!", were the last words I heard. 

And that's when my whole world turned black. 

To be continued 

Second Chance.

"Where feet may fail and fear surrounds me, you never fail and you won't start now."

Three weeks ago I finished my exams. 
Today, the 16th of June 2016, is the day I hear my final results.

I didn't pass.

But I didn't fail either.

It's been 3 hours since I heard the final results. They said they'd start calling at 12 pm. First they would call the ones who failed and later on the ones who passed. When they called me at 12:11 I knew I was fucked, I failed. 

I don't think so honey.

They told me I'd still had a chance if I flamed my resit. 

It's gonna be tough but I'm happy. 
I got the chance to do it again.
I got a second chance.